The Hangover
by enigma-kar
Summary: Sherlock and John wake up together in the same bed with two of the worst hangovers in history. So begins the quest to find out exactly what happened that previous night.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock is not mine. This particular Sherlock belongs to Mr. Gatiss and Mr. Moffat. The Hangover and the ideas that movie were based on are not mine either.

_I have absolutely no idea where this idea came from. My mind likes to randomly group things and come up with insane ideas for stories. With that in mind, I give you this. It's based on the movie _The Hangover _except with the characters from _Sherlock_. The plot will be basically the same, with a few changes since it's set in London, not Vegas. _

_So, dear reader - I give you my first multi-chapter _Sherlock _fic. Warnings must be issued for OOC-ness and just general complete madness. :P Please let me know what you think. And if I should make this more obviously John/Sherlock slash, or just keep it at friendship._

* * *

**The Hangover**

**_ONE - in which John and Sherlock wake up together_**

Dr. John Watson groaned and clutched his aching head. Gingerly he sat up and slowly turned, dangling his feet over the edge of the bed. With another soft moan he placed his head in his hands, kneading his temples with his finger tips.

What a night. At least... he thought it was. With a startling realisation, he discovered he was drawing a blank where last night was concerned. And that fact scared him slightly. A million questions and statements raced through his head but in his bleary, hung-over state, John couldn't comprehend any of them.

It _was_ obvious, however, that he had been drinking. And a fair bit, judging from the state of his mind. Drinking with whom, he couldn't quite remember. It took effort, but he mentally made a short-list:

- Sarah? Possible. But surely he would have remembered.

- Harry? Definitely not. He knew better than to get absolutely smashed with his alcoholic sister. Didn't he?

- Mrs. Hudson? No. Just no.

- Lestrade? Maybe? They'd shared a pint before, after all.

- Mycroft? He'd certainly been in town, hadn't he? No, surely not. Sherlock for one would never have allowed it.

And then John was hit with a final name.

- Sherlock? John's mind instantly exploded with possible images of what Sherlock would be like drunk. Dear God, no...

Thankfully, John was saved from thinking any further on that as he remembered that Sherlock didn't drink. Definitely not Sherlock then.

Because thinking was such effort, John returned to mindlessly kneading his temples. A moment later and with a frown, he lightly smacked his lips together. Chocolate milk? When had he been drinking chocolate milk?

_John was crawling around the kitchen, a bottle of gin in his hand. He opened the door to the fridge, grasping the first item he could reach. Chocolate milk._

"_Who's for gin and chocolate milk?"_

The flashback ended and John sighed. If that had been the worse of his escapades from the night before he'd be fine. It would be fine.

~ *XX* ~

Sherlock Holmes woke suddenly.

Blearily he opened his eyes, but didn't trust himself to move any further. He'd never felt so ill in his entire life. It was as though he would be profusely sick all over the floor if he moved, even just an inch. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd drunk alcohol, let alone so much of it. Looking out from his cacoon of sheets, he was relieved to find he'd managed to make it to his own bedroom.

It was with slight surprise, however, that he realised he couldn't recall anything from the previous night. He knew there had been the consumption of alcohol at some stage, but he'd predicted his rather massive intellect would have helped in memory recall.

Slowly he reached a hand up to rub over his face. A glint of gold caught his eyes. On his left ring finger was a simple gold band. His eyes widened in horror. Married? He wasn't married!

A groan from somewhere over his shoulder broke his shocked concentration and he twisted, throwing off the sheets. His stomach lurched in the motion and he felt slightly dizzy, but he managed to keep from vomiting. There was a shadowy form of someone was sitting on the far edge of his bed.

"What?"

There was a yelp and the figure promptly fell off the bed. Seconds later it reappeared and Sherlock could make out the frown even in the darkness of the room. He'd know that frown anywhere.

"John?"

"Sherlock?"

"What the hell..."

"What are you doing in my bed, John?"

"_Your _bed?" John looked around and swore. "I don't know. I don't remember anything..."

Sherlock sighed. "Neither do it."

They sat in resigned silence. So much for Sherlock _not_ drinking, John thought with an inward groan. Before the images of a drunk Sherlock returned, the man in question stood and made his way over to open the curtains slightly. Light flooded in and John flinched. Turning back to the doctor, Sherlock grinned somewhat insanely and clapped his hands together.

"Well, I suggest we find out," he said in childlike joy. It was the same sort of joy he reserved for crime solving.

John would have rolled his eyes at this point, but he'd just realised something else. The doctor blinked in embarrassed shock before coughing nervously. "I agree. But, Sherlock?"

"Yes John?"

"Can you please get dressed first?"

Sherlock glanced down and then back up at John who was now profusely blushing. "Oh..."

It was at that moment John realised it was going to be a long day.

* * *

A/N Additional: _Congrats __to those who picked up on the small _Danny Bhoy _reference/quote. :P Reviews = love._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock is still not mine.

_Thank you, firstly, to all the reviewers, subscribers and favouriters. You guys seriously rock and definitely made my day! :) Also, just reiterating the fact that this is a total crack!fic (my excuse for it being so very OOC). And that I think I'll just keep this at a friendship level, which will certainly make it all the more awkward in the long run. :P And lastly, if you have any ideas as to what else John and Sherlock could have got up to during "that night", please don't hesitate to let me know. :D This chapter is also a bit longer... hope that's ok. :) Enjoy! _

_(warning for a bit of strong language here... John gets a little angry...)_

* * *

_**TWO - in which there is a lion in the bathroom (and tea is made)**_

Sherlock stood in the shower. The hot water pounded steadily into his back and somehow managed to ease the pain in his head and the sick feeling in his stomach. Slowly he brought the gold ring up to eye level and examined it. The thin band was only 8 carat. Cheap, but not to an untrained eye. It was plain, simple and definitely wedding band style.

But that wasn't all. Sherlock was not only confused by these facts, but also by the fact John had an identical ring on his finger. Thoughts and questions instantly flashed in his mind.

Married to John? Was that even technically possible in England? Sherlock didn't know. It wasn't something he needed to know.

Could rings like that signify something else? He made a mental note to research marriage at a later date.

Was it coincidence? Had they both been married to other people?

Was he really married to John? What would John think about this? How did Sherlock himself feel about this?

He didn't know.

Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. Luckily, John hadn't noticed his ring yet. That lead Sherlock to think that maybe John had been married in the past and was used to having a ring on that finger. Or perhaps he was still too hungover to realise it. It was something he'd ponder later. Perhaps after he'd actually let his flatmate know they appeared to be married...

He stopped thinking momentarily. Trying to think at his usual pace had brought the pain in his head back to it's previous strength. Not for the first time, Sherlock wished he could remember more of the previous night. There was a sudden muffled shout from upstairs, which Sherlock recognised as John's voice. He shut the water off. Instead of working the ring back onto his finger, he placed it on a nearby shelf and tucked it into his shirt pocket a moment later when he was dried and dressed.

Definitely something to ponder later.

~ *XX* ~

Once Sherlock had made his escape to the bathroom, John made his way up to his own bedroom and bathroom. With a sigh he sat down on the bed and wished he could remember more from the previous night. Then, with a slight smile, he realised he'd find out. Of course he would. With the world's best (and only) consulting detective on the case they were bound to work it out.

Still smiling, John collected up his towel and headed to the bathroom. He opened the door, hung his towel up, turned to the shower and let out startled yell. Heart racing and eyes wide, he slowly stepped backwards, closing the bathroom door behind him.

Staying as calm as possible, he let out a sigh, headed to the threshold of his room and cupped hands around his mouth. "SHERLOCK! WHY THE _FUCK_ IS THERE A LION IN MY BLOODY BATHROOM!" Sherlock bounded up the stairs a few moments later. He was dressed immaculately in a casual suit, his hair slightly damp.

"What?"

"There is a fucking lion in my bathroom Sherlock," John said, unable to keep the annoyance and shock from his voice. He folded his arms crossly and stared at Sherlock as though this was his fault.

"Are you sure?"

"Am I what? Of course I am! Be my guest, see for yourself." John stepped back and waved a mocking invitation at Sherlock. Confidently stepping forward, the detective opened the door to the bathroom. His eyes widened and he shut the door again with a quick snap.

"Oh."

"Oh? How the _hell_ did a lion get into my bathroom?"

"I can't remember anything from last night either, John," Sherlock said calmly, watching as John swore again and fell back onto his bed.

"Are you saying that at some point last night we found a lion and decided to bring it home and lock it in my bathroom?"

Sherlock didn't have a reply. Instead he just said, "Did you want to use mine?"

~ *XX* ~

Twenty minutes later John entered the living room feeling a lot better; thankfully Sherlock's bathroom hadn't been filled with various experiments or spare body parts. John had pushed the image and thought of the lion to the back of his mind, however it all came flooding back at that moment. Sherlock was stretched out on the sofa, but opened his eyes when John entered. He clearly had pushed the lion to the back of his mind too.

"Tea?" It came out as a tired croak; the only testament to the apparent drinking the previous night. John sighed and headed to the kitchen, knowing his reply of 'you couldn't get it yourself, for once?' would be ignored.

Much to his surprise, however, John actually got a quiet thanks when he handed Sherlock his tea. "So," he began, sitting down. "What's the plan?"

Sherlock sat up quickly, placing his tea on the coffee table. He pressed his palms together and stared off into the distance. "I think we should begin by tracing our steps from the night before. We had a case, didn't we? I could call Lestrade..."

"I meant about the _lion_ in my _bathroom_, Sherlock. Or had you forgotten?"

"Oh," Sherlock blinked, turned to John and then relaxed back into the sofa. "Of course. Er..."

John sighed and they sat in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. John didn't really feel up to dealing with anything, let alone the lion which had taken up residence in his bathroom. He suspected Sherlock felt the same. However, each sip of tea they took cleared both their minds more and more. The sick hungover feeling began to slowly ebb away, but there was still a blank spot where the previous night was concerned.

"Why can't we remember anything from last night?" John suddenly asked.

"I have a number of theories," Sherlock replied, but didn't elaborate. "What was the last thing you remember before this morning?" He turned to stare directly into John's eyes.

The doctor frowned in concentration, ignoring how disconcerting Sherlock's gaze could be. "We were leaving Scotland Yard, going somewhere to celebrate. The case. We'd just finished a case. But then it's just blank."

"_Come on, we'll go to the local. Drinks are on me," Lestrade said cheerfully as they left the building._

"_I don't drink," Sherlock muttered._

"_Come on," John said. "One drink. To celebrate."_

"_I'm shouting."_

"_What harm could it do?"_

John swallowed at his famous last words, before nodding at Sherlock. "What do you remember?"

"A bit more after that," said Sherlock. "I remember going to the pub. Lestrade was there and a few others. I remember feeling bored, then nothing."

_Lestrade, Sherlock and John sat at a small table in a crowded bar. Sally Donovan, Anderson and a few others were at another table. _

_Lestrade and John had pints of beer. Sherlock had nothing._

"_Last chance, Sherlock," Lestrade said. "I'll get you a pint? Or did you want something else?"_

"_I'm fine," Sherlock replied. He was feeling bored already._

"You remember more than me?" John asked, bringing Sherlock back to the present.

"I've got a higher IQ, generally larger brain, more brain cells and stimulants don't affect me as strongly as most people. But I can't remember actually drinking anything..."

"Thanks," John muttered sarcastically, skipping past Sherlock's alluding to his drug history.

"I thought I told you not to be like that. Compared to me, everyone is sub-intelligent," Sherlock said matter-of-factly.

"You really are very modest," John said and Sherlock missed the sardonic tone again.

"But you're right. We should deal with the lion."

"How? We can't remember anything. We don't even know where it comes from."

"Maybe you should turn the TV on then," Sherlock replied and John realised he was right. A missing lion would definitely be news worthy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock still isn't mine.

_Not living in London, I have no idea where _London Zoo _actually is in relation to Baker St. Google Maps says it's 0.9 miles away and the two are separated by Regent's Park. I'm hoping that is right - if not, please feel free to let me know and I'll see what I can do to change it. :) _

_Anyway, enough of my rambling - please enjoy this chapter. Reviews are love. :)_

* * *

_**THREE - in which Mrs Hudson has some questions and some answers**_

John flicked on the TV, switching through channels until he found the one he was looking for.

"_... from London Zoo. Zoo keepers were notified of the lion's absence early this morning. Security had not been alerted, leading to believe this was a professional job. If anyone has any information regarding the disappearance, please contact police on the number below. The lion, named Lucifer, is one of the mating pair of the endangered species. Experts believe that if not found, it may be hard to..." _John's loud swearing cut off anything the newsreader had to add.

"Doctor Watson!" Mrs Hudson scolded as she entered the room.

"Sorry," John muttered, genuinely apologetic.

"Well, I am glad to see you are both alright," the old lady continued. "You boys were a right mess last night. Never have I seen my Sherlock so not himself." She shook her head as Sherlock gazed intently at her.

"What happened last night, Mrs Hudson?"

The lady in question didn't appear to have heard as she made her way into the kitchen, "Oh, Sherlock. What have you done to this place? Is this chocolate milk? It needs to be kept in the fridge, you know."

"Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock followed her into the kitchen. John was one step behind, blushing at the mention of the chocolate milk. "What happened last night?"

"Oh," she turned to them and smoothed down her skirt. "Well I was taking my usual drugs. The herbal soothers, you know. The ones for-"

"Skipping over your herbal soothers for just a moment, Mrs Hudson," John interrupted politely.

"Sorry, dear. Well, it was rather late. I had been up watching Midsomer Murders, lost track of time, you see. And I was just about to head off to bed when you got back," she paused, as though enjoying prolonging the expectant looks on both John and Sherlock's faces. "You were both awfully noisy, I must say," she continued with a scold and John muttered an apology.

"Mrs Hudson," Sherlock said, getting impatient.

"Well, I didn't want to interrupt, you know. You sounded," she blushed as she sought the right word. "involved." Sherlock and John glanced at each other with widened, horrified eyes. Remembering the wedding ring, Sherlock swallowed, uncharacteristically nervous and worried.

"It probably wasn't what you thought," John gave what he thought was a reassuring smile.

"Definitely not," Sherlock added.

"Oh, it's not that I mind, dears. Just keep it down next time," Mrs Hudson gave a secret smile and tapped her nose, conspiratorially. John sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Have we been working a case?" Sherlock asked, thankfully changing the topic.

"Collins, I think," she replied.

"Collins?"

"The Collins case you said. I never hear much, but that nice detective came around a few times, you know."

"Lestrade?" John offered.

"Yes, that's him."

Sherlock frowned and a flash of memory hit him.

_Lestrade was standing in their living room with crossed arms watching as Sherlock paced. "I know all this, Sherlock. I need a connection. I can't nail Collins until you've connected the victims."_

"_You still think it was Collins?" John asked._

"_Of course it was Collins," Sherlock replied instantly a hint of anger in his voice. "Just look at the evidence."_

_John and Lestrade sighed in unison._

"I remember," Sherlock muttered, mentally returning to the kitchen with John and Mrs Hudson. "I remember the case."

"Me too," John said and the two shared a look.

"We need to talk to Lestrade."

"No," John shook his head, slightly annoyed that Sherlock had forgotten the more pressing situation... again. "We need to deal with the lion first."

"Lion!" Mrs Hudson squeaked. "What lion? Is this about that missing lion on the news?"

"It's nothing, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock cut in with a rather charming smile. "We'll deal with it. Why don't you get back to your Midsomer Murders."

Mrs Hudson looked as though she didn't believe him, but she nodded anyway. "If there is any damage, I'm raising your rent again," she warned. "And do clean up this kitchen!"

"Of course, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock smiled. "Right away." Their landlady clearly didn't believe Sherlock, but she left anyway as he gently ushered her out. The consulting detective then turned to John again, the smile gone from his face.

"The lion," John began. "It's from London bloody Zoo! How the hell did you manage to get it back here? It's a _lion_!"

"London Zoo is only a mile away. Wait..." Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John. "You think I'm responsible for the lion?"

"No. I'm just saying that if there was anyone who _could_ actually kidnap a lion from a zoo without alerting security and then take it a whole mile back to our place and then lock it in my bathroom, it would be you," John said. Sherlock actually had the nerve to look flattered and proud at that and John suppressed a groan. "But really Sherlock, what are we going to do with the lion?" The taller man merely responded with a wave of his hand. "Sherlock!"

"We'll call the zoo and they will come and pick it up."

"And tell them what exactly?" John raised an eyebrow, before pretending to talking on the phone and mockingly saying. "Yes sir, we do have your lion. Um, actually it's in our bathroom. No we don't know how it got in there. Can you come and pick it up?" He looked at Sherlock expectantly.

"I'll tell them Mycroft was responsible," Sherlock said, as though it was the obvious solution.

"Your brother?"

"Of course."

"Are you sure he won't mind?" Truth be told, John was slightly sceptical.

"No," Sherlock waved it off again. "Besides, Mycroft owes me for the last prank he played on me."

"What was that?"

"Can't remember. I was 12."

"Right."

"Besides, no one really has the power to argue against Mycroft. I'll get him to write them a cheque. It'll be fine."

"You know I actually believe you," John muttered with a shake of his head.

Sherlock shot him a smile. "You'll make the phone call will you, John? Thank you."

John sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine.

_From my point of view - this has to be one of the weirdest chapters I've ever written. But also one of the most amusing to write. There isn't really any artistic way to describe the capturing/rescue of a lion, which is locked in a bathroom. Hope you enjoy this , anyway and I hope it isn't too boring for you. :) Reviews are love. _

* * *

_**FOUR - in which the lion is dealt with**_

John phoned the hotline mentioned on the television and somehow managed to cobble together something that sounded vaguely plausible. He was about to phone Sherlock's brother Mycroft when the man in question entered the room.

"Here they are, my dear," Mrs Hudson said to him and Mycroft forced a smile at her. With a slight blush the older woman left. It was out of habit that John didn't even question how Mycroft knew and how he got here so quickly. Instead he inwardly sighed and put the phone down.

"You've put on weight," Sherlock muttered, not looking up from his violin. He'd been forbidden from playing it by a rather cranky John, but no one could stop him from simply holding it (and occasionally plucking a string or two).

Mycroft ignored him and turned to John. "Pleasure to see you again, John."

"Three pounds."

Ignoring the statement, Mycroft turned wearily to his brother. "How did you manage to get the lion back here, Sherlock?"

"Why don't you tell us," Sherlock said, tensing up as he often did when Mycroft was around.

"What would I know?" Mycroft replied smoothly and Sherlock responded with a sharp glare.

"Well," John interrupted, before the two Holmes brothers broke into an argument. "I, um... I phoned that hotline. So someone should be here soon to take the lion. Should we..."

"Don't worry about the media, John," Mycroft told him, reading the doctor's mind. "I had Kathryn send out a cover story. The media will be informed only when the lion has been returned to London Zoo. There they will be told that there was a glitch in the electronic security system, which will account for both the lion escaping and the zoo's security staff being uninformed of the escape."

"Oh, thank you," said John, presuming 'Kathryn' was the 'Anthea' he had met before.

"I assure you it was nothing, John," Mycroft smiled.

"Would you care to tell us what you know about last night, then?" Sherlock asked. "I know you have us on 'grade three surveillance'."

"Surveillance? What?" This was apparently news to John.

Mycroft gave a twirl of his ever-present umbrella and sat down on a spare chair. "It is for your own good, _brother dear_. You know I worry about you."

"Last night, Mycroft," Sherlock warned a reminder.

"I have the CCTV footage from London Zoo. The only copy," Mycroft said, not elaborating on how he managed that. "I can have it destroyed."

"No," Sherlock cut in. "We'll want to view it."

Mycroft nodded. "We'll discuss it later. The officials from London Zoo and the lion keeper have just arrived." There was a knock at the door a second later and John went down to answer the door when neither Holmes brother moved.

"You called about the lion?"

It took a lot of will power to stop John from bursting out with laughter. That was quite possibly the most ridiculous question he'd ever been asked in his life. Of course, it didn't help that the zoo officials at the door looked very serious indeed.

"Uh, yes. Yes, I did," John said and he stepped back to let them all in. "Please come in. It's just up the stairs." Two zoo officials in uniform entered first, followed by three apparent zoo keepers (equipped with cages and what appeared to be a tranquilizer gun) and bring up the rear were two security guards.

Closing the door behind them, John shook his head at the current situation and how insane it actually was. He'd never really had his mad life with Sherlock completely sussed and he probably never would. But this was, by far, the maddest thing that had happened. With another tiny shake of his head, John trotted back up the stairs.

"Mycroft Holmes," the elder Holmes introduced himself, immediately taking control of the conversation. "John here can show your zoo staff to the lion and I shall discuss payment for this indiscretion."

"Liam Jackson," the apparent leader of the London Zoo troop, replied to Mycroft. He turned and gave a nod to the zoo staff member carrying the tranquilizer, who, in turn, turned to John.

"It's just up here," the doctor said, taking the hint. "I'll show you now if you like?"

"Yes, thank you. I'm Jack Braithwaite, by the way. My colleagues, Peter Bell and Kim Riley," he gestured to them in turn.

"John Watson," and they exchanged a brief smile, before John lead them out of the living room and up into his bedroom. Opening the door, John cringed slightly. He wished he'd cleaned up a bit. Hurriedly he cleared a few spare jumpers off the floor to make room for the large cage.

"Sorry about the mess," he coughed and the zoo keeper, Kim shot him an amused smile. "The, uh, bathroom is just through here."

"How long has he been in there?" Jack asked.

"Oh, um... I'd guess nine hours, maximum," as John said it, he realised how bad it sounded. They had locked an innocent animal in a bathroom without food or water for nine hours. "Uh, will he be, ok?"

"Lion's can go for long periods without food or water. The stress of a different environment is what concerns us most at the moment," Peter Bell stated.

"Oh, ok," John muttered and, feeling slightly out of place, he moved out of their way and sat in a chair in the corner.

"How'd you manage to get here anyway?" Kim asked and John looked up at her with a sigh.

"If I ever find out, I'll let you know."

She smiled kindly. "Big night was it?"

"You have no idea."

"Well, however you managed it. It's quite an achievement, I must say." John wasn't sure he deserved the praise, but grunted a thanks and returned to merely watching.

In the end, it was rather anti-climactic. Head lion keeper, Jack, stepped into the bathroom, fired the tranquilizer and there was a dull thud as the lion collapsed. Peter and Kim then stepped in and together the three manoeuvred the lion into the cage.

"Done," Kim stepped back triumphantly and John congratulated them.

"We'll take it from here," Jack said at John. "Thanks."

"No, thank _you. _Really."

The three lion keeper nodded at him and John waited until they left his bedroom, before following them back down the stairs, peeling off at the living room. In a perfectly-timed motion, Mycroft tore a cheque from his cheque book just as John entered the room.

"Ah, John. All sorted then?" Mycroft handed the cheque over to the zoo official.

"Ah, Yes," John said, his eyes turning to Sherlock. The consulting detective had not moved from his position on the sofa. He even still clutched his violin. John shook his head in disbelief. "You've just been sitting there? This whole time?"

Sherlock looked up, the innocence of a child written over his face. "Yes."

"Did you honestly think it would have been wise to let Sherlock help?" Mycroft asked, shaking hands with the zoo official before turning to John with a raised eyebrow.

"Fair point."

On the sofa, Sherlock didn't even protest. As far as he was concerned he had better things to do and to think about than the rescue of a lion stuck in a bathroom.

* * *

_Coming up next - we have some more sibling rivalry and John discovers something... _


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine...

_This is a bit of a filler chapter, before we get to the part I suspect you are all waiting for (just to reiterate, this _won't _be John/Sherlock slash. Just friendship. Please don't hate me). :P But there is more Mycroft, which I am loving writing. :) Hope you enjoy this and please leave a review - I promise to update soon! :)_

* * *

_**FIVE - in which there is some more sibling rivalry (and John finally discovers something)**_

Sherlock finally extracted himself from the comfort of the sofa, to reach for his phone. Quickly he sent a text; his long fingers skilfully flying across the keys. Putting the phone down again, Sherlock looked up to realise only he and Mycroft were left in the room. The zoo officials were leaving and John offered to show them out.

"I do believe congratulations are in order," Mycroft said to his brother, once John was out of earshot.

"What?"

"I had been expecting a happy announcement personally, but I know how you like to keep these little things secret," Mycroft grinned, enigmatically.

"What?" Sherlock repeated. Maybe it was the effects from his memory loss and his still slightly present hangover, but he had no idea what his brother was going on about.

"You and John," Mycroft said wearily with a twirl of his umbrella. When Sherlock continued to stare blankly at him, Mycroft sighed. "Promise me you'll never drink and take drugs again. You're even more difficult to deal with than usual. You and John. Married. And you didn't even invite your dear brother. What will Mummy think?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He didn't even bother questioning how Mycroft knew. "John doesn't know yet."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow in mock surprise and Sherlock didn't refrain from scowling. "Do pass on my congratulations when you tell him. We will have dinner together sometime."

"No," Sherlock said flatly, screwing up his face in mild disgust. He couldn't really think of anything worse. "Tell me what you know of last night."

"Do you have any idea how much hard work goes into my job? No, I suspect you wouldn't," Mycroft looked down his nose at Sherlock, rather haughtily. "I don't have time for your trivial matters, Sherlock. Besides, that would ruin the fun." He grinned widely again.

Sherlock scowled again. "Send the CCTV footage to Scotland Yard and Lestrade. He owes me a favour or two."

"As you wish," Mycroft said. "For future cases, however, I suggest you do not drink as much. And do try not to pull anymore stunts like this. It won't only be Mummy that you upset."

Sherlock opened his mouth to retort, but closed it as John's footsteps sounded on the stairs. He resorted to glaring at his brother until John joined them a few seconds later. "Thanks again, Mycroft for all this," John said.

"It was my pleasure, John," Mycroft offered a hand, which John took.

"You're not going to say thank you, Sherlock?" John turned to his flatmate, who simply huffed like a petulant child. "Sherlock?"

"Don't worry, John," Mycroft shook his head sadly. "He's never appreciated the things I do for him. I never expected that to change." John gave him a sympathetic smile, while Sherlock continued to ignore them both.

"Well, thank you again," John repeated after an awkward pause.

Mycroft waved it off, "It was nothing. Just make sure he doesn't do it again, John."

"Yeah," John said in a tone which suggested that would be impossible.

"Until next time then," Mycroft nodded at John. "And congratulations again, Sherlock," he turned to his brother, who gave a reluctant half smile/half grimace. Then, with a final twirl of his umbrella, Mycroft left. As soon as the door downstairs shut, Sherlock instantly relaxed.

"What did he mean by 'congratulations'?"

"Nothing," Sherlock said quickly.

Knowing better than to press it, John simply nodded. "So it's all sorted then?"

"If you mean the lion incident. Of course," Sherlock said, walking over to the window and watching as Mycroft left the building and was driven away. In a well practised movement, he brought his palms together and began tapping his fingers against each other. How much did Mycroft know about last night?

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?" Sherlock turned to John.

"Well?"

"Mycroft sent a particularly large cheque to London Zoo to apologise for the incident. The CCTV footage will be -"

"I meant what now," John cut him off.

"We go to Lestrade," said Sherlock as though it were obvious.

"Why?"

"If you hadn't interrupted, the CCTV footage from the Zoo from last night will be sent to Scotland Yard. I texted Lestrade and requested he be directly involved. Since we have just finished that Collins case and he was at the pub with us, he may be able to shed some new light, so to speak."

John nodded, feeling incredibly slow. Blaming it on his still slightly present hangover, he mentally cursed Sherlock's massive intellect once again.

"I'll just get my coat," Sherlock then told John. "Meet you downstairs."

John was at the door when Sherlock appeared less than a minute later. With a flourish of his coat, his flatmate bounded down the stairs and John suppressed a sudden urge to giggle. He had long suspected that behind closed doors, Sherlock would don his coat and simply twirl about in it. It seemed the sort of vain, whimsical thing Sherlock would do. "Ready?"

"Yup," John replied, shaking the thoughts from his head. Together they headed out onto the street. They had just made it to the pavement, when John suddenly stopped dead. A glint of gold had caught his eye.

"Sherlock..." John trailed off in shock. How had he not noticed this before? Sherlock, who was a few paces ahead already, turned with a frown. John was staring down at left hand and Sherlock instantly knew what he was looking at.

"Ah, John," Sherlock walked back to him and the shorter man looked up. "I was wondering when you'd notice that."

"You knew?"

With a somewhat apologetic smile, Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out an identical ring to John's.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock still isn't mine.

___Now the chapter most of you have been waiting for. :P I've always suspected that Sherlock doesn't really have any idea about relationships, least of all marriage. Hence the somewhat confusing conversation and thoughts in this chapter. He doesn't quite know how to deal, because he just doesn't know. So I hope it's not too confusing and just generally rubbish for you. I actually held off publishing it, because I wasn't quite sure. :S But I hope you still enjoy and please review. ;)_

* * *

_**SIX - in which marriage is discussed**_

It didn't take long for John to connect the dots. His eyes widened in a mixture of horror and surprise. "Married?" It came out as a shocked squeak.

"So it would seem," Sherlock replied, somewhat amused.

"No. God no," John groaned. "I mean..." he tore his gaze from his hand to look at Sherlock. "I mean, no offence, but..."

"None taken," Sherlock quickly muttered.

"God, how did I miss this? Married?"

"John, your amnesic, you're still hungover and you've been distracted by the lion in the bathroom. Besides, you were never as observant as me."

"Thanks, Sherlock," John scathed before looking back at the offending ring. "I just can't believe... How the hell did this happen? What do I tell Sarah? Oh, God. This cannot be happening." John let out a shuddering breath, forcing himself not to panic.

He was married to Sherlock? He couldn't even begin to comprehend that. It was just too much. How did this happen? Sherlock didn't do relationships. Let alone marriage or emotions or anything of the sort. How _much_ had they drunk? Sherlock couldn't even remember drinking. Had they had something else? Drugs? It scared the hell out of John that he couldn't remember this.

"John?"

"Yeah," John's voice came out distractedly. "Yeah..."

"We need to get to Scotland Yard."

"What?" John's eyes snapped up to Sherlock's. "We're not going to talk about this? For God's sake, Sherlock. We're married!"

Sherlock sighed wearily, as though that fact didn't really matter. "We'll sort it out later. Right now we need to concentrate on finding out about last night."

"This_ is_ part of last night!" John shouted it, earning disapproving looks from those bystanders on the street. The anger had come up nowhere. "Sorry."

"Look, I don't like this any more than you do."

"Really? Because you were looking pretty amused before, Sherlock. Is this," John paused in his anger to rip the ring from his finger. "Your idea of a joke? Is this something you wanted? Because it sure as hell isn't what I want."

Sherlock blinked in surprise at John's fury. He'd clearly underestimated the situation. Was marriage really that important? It wasn't something he'd ever considered or seen as important... or relevant. He shook the thought from his mind. "John, I-"

"You what? You're sorry? Do you actually even care-"

"Oh do shut up, John!" Sherlock cut him off. "Listen, I can't remember anything from last night. All I know is from what I've seen and observed. I don't even know anything about marriage." He paused with a frown. "Is it even possible for two men to get married in this country?"

"Not full marriage. You can get a civil union," John muttered, subdued by Sherlock's yelling at him. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, but didn't question how John knew that.

"I see," Sherlock lowered his voice with a cough, before speaking in a more reasonable tone. "Well, I'm sure Mycroft could pull a few strings if you wanted-"

"What?" John's voice rose an octave.

"What?" Sherlock's voice was calm (and slightly confused) in comparison.

"No! I mean, I don't want this... I don't want... wait... do _you _want to be-" John's eyes widened even further (an act, Sherlock had previously deemed physically impossible) in fearful worry.

"What?"

"Properly married."

"Not particularly," Sherlock replied and John frowned in confusion. Sherlock wasn't making sense and he was about to tell his flatmate so, when he realised that Sherlock never quite made sense. Just because they appeared to be married wasn't going to change that.

"Sherlock," he sighed. "Marriage is not something to be taken lightly. And I don't know how this happened, but I really don't think that... Well, I just don't think we should... I think we should sort it out," John finished lamely, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment.

Luckily, Sherlock didn't seem to notice, or care. "Agreed. We need to sort this out. The... marriage is part of that. But right now, the best place to go is Scotland Yard."

"Yeah, of course," John said with a nod, before adding somewhat bashfully, "Sorry."

"Me too," Sherlock replied after a moment. "I shouldn't have... yelled before. That was..."

"Wrong?"

"Wrong, yes," he paused. "Shall we go then?"

"Yeah, course," John forced a smile. Casually he slipped the ring back on his finger, rubbing his knuckles where he had viciously ripped it off before.

"Good," Sherlock nodded. "I'll get a cab."

A cab pulled up on the curb a moment after Sherlock had hailed for one. John swore as he realised something else. "So that's what Mycroft meant by congratulations."

Sherlock shot him a weak smile as they climbed into the cab.

~ *XX* ~

They sat in silence; an awkward silence, which was so unlike their usual contented silence. Once again, they were both wrapped up in their own thoughts.

John studied his flatmate as he stared out the window. He'd known Sherlock long enough to know that this... their... apparent marriage was having an impact on him. To be honest, he wasn't surprised. Asexual Sherlock, waking up with no memory to find himself married to his friend. Even for someone as emotionally stable and seemingly uncaring and sociopathic as Sherlock, it would have shaken his world.

At that thought, John knew he shouldn't have got angry.

"You're actually being affected by this, aren't you?" John said and Sherlock turned to meet his gaze.

"What?"

"This. The marriage," John glanced up at the taxi driver, conscious of his presence. "Our marriage," he whispered the last part.

Sherlock didn't reply instantly. He turned away, gazing out at the passing scenery once again. "It's not important. It shouldn't matter."

"But it does."

"Yes," Sherlock muttered, reluctantly. He'd pushed all the thoughts and questions to the back of his mind, but they came back to him now in light of John discovering the truth. He still didn't understand it. This was bringing up feelings and emotions he didn't want to have or didn't realise he had. John meant a lot to him. That was obvious from previous evidence. And he was certain he meant a lot to John. But married? He and John were just friends and he was certain that "just friends" didn't qualify for marriage. Sherlock had a sudden realisation that this could ruin that friendship. Deep within him, he felt a stab of emotion, a stab of loss and pain and he realised he didn't want to ruin the current relationship he had with John. Turning back to John, he realised he wanted to explain all this to him, but couldn't bring himself to find the right words.

"So, cheating on work with me. Who'd have thought," John gave a weak chuckle, attempting to lighten the situation and Sherlock's reverie was broken. "You know how you said you were married to your work."

Sherlock hummed noncommittally and silence once again filled the cab. When they spoke again, they did so at the same time.

"We can file for a divorce-" Sherlock broke off with a grin and John let out a shaky laugh. Thankfully they had been thinking the same thing.

"You had me worried for a moment there," John admitted. Sherlock screwed his face up in a 'you shouldn't have worried' way.

"I do like you, John. But not in that way," Sherlock replied.

John nodded in approval and the detective knew the feeling was mutual. The feeling of awkwardness evaporated instantly and the last ten minutes of the drive passed in comfortable silence. They arrived at Scotland Yard with one less weight on their shoulders. John paid the driver, who gave him a knowing smile, before returning to Sherlock's side.

"No one in that building has to know about this," John said, gazing up at it.

"Take your ring off then and I promise not to call you anything revoltingly endearing."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock still isn't mine.

_I must apologise for not updating sooner. I have been distracted with the finale of _Merlin _and also with the MUSE concert I went to last night (It was epic beyond words!). But now I bring chapter 7. Hope you enjoy and hope it's not too confusing. I do have a plot worked out so everything will be neatly tied up and all questions answered. :) Reviews are love. _

* * *

_**SEVEN - in which Lestrade offers a few startling revelations **_

Sherlock led the way up to Lestrade's office. By now, John knew the way like the back of his own hand, but let the taller man lead anyway. The pair got the usual amount of strange looks and whispered comments, but they both knew better than to respond.

Detective Inspector Lestrade had just put his phone down when Sherlock entered his office (without knocking as per usual). John entered behind him, looking slightly guilty at the intrusion.

"Morning," John returned Lestrade's greeting. Sherlock did not.

"We need to discuss the events of last night with you," Sherlock got straight to business.

"Last night?" Looking confused, Lestrade glanced between John and Sherlock.

"Yes," John confirmed. "We can't actually-"

"We can't remember what happened last night," Sherlock cut in. "We were hoping you could fill in the gaps."

Lestrade frowned, caught between amusement and confusion. "You can't remember? Sherlock, you didn't even drink any alcohol."

'Interesting," Sherlock muttered, in concentrated thought. "What did I drink?"

"You had a glass of water," Lestrade said, then turned to John. "Even then I had to persuade him to have it. Though, knowing him, he only took it to shut me up."

John nodded, wearily as though he experienced this dilemma on a daily basis. "I know what you mean."

"That doesn't make sense. If I only drank water, how can I not remember," Sherlock said, more to himself than anyone else.

"How much did I drink?" John asked Lestrade as Sherlock's mind went into overdrive.

"Two pints, from memory. Three max. Look, I wasn't counting, but you were fine John. You both were. We were only at the pub for a few hours and then you two left to catch a cab home."

"Are you sure we went home?"

"Well, I wasn't there when you specifically told the driver '221B Baker Street'. Where else would you have gone? I can't exactly imagine you and Sherlock getting a cab to another bar or club."

John nodded. Lestrade had a fair point. He then shuddered at the thought of Sherlock in a club. Definitely not.

"Are you sure it was just water I drank?" Sherlock turned to Lestrade again. "Who got the water? Was there any point at which someone could have slipped something into both our drinks?"

"You think you were drugged?" Lestrade looked slightly outraged at the thought.

"If you are adamant I only drank water, how else would I have lost my memory?" Neither John nor Lestrade had an answer, so Sherlock continued. "The drugs would have had to be administered at that pub, because that's when the memories start fading."

"You think we were drugged?" John repeated Lestrade's question.

"I've known you long enough, to know that it would take more than a few pints of beer for you to become amnesic."

"Why would someone drug you though?" Lestrade asked.

"Revenge. Joke. Boredom."

"You think someone drugged you and John out of boredom?" Lestrade was sounding incredulous, until John muttered a name.

"Moriarty?" He locked eyes with Sherlock as the room took a sudden chill.

"No," Sherlock shook his head after a moment. Lestrade continued to glance between them, his eyes wider than usual. "No. This isn't his style."

"What? Drugging us to the point where we forget what actually happened to us? Of course that sounds like Moriarty," said John.

Sherlock shook his head again. "No," he repeated. "Moriarty wants us dead. If he was the one who drugged us, Scotland Yard would be investigating our deaths right now. We're still alive. This is too... trivial for him," Sherlock took the phrase from Mycroft.

John nodded knowing Sherlock was right and beside him Lestrade crossed his arms. None of them were impressed or happy by the revelation they had possibly been drugged the night before. John, however, didn't need to think back through his medical training to know what sort of drug had these effects. And judging from the look on Lestrade's face, the detective was thinking the same thing.

Rohypnol. The date-rape drug.

"Rohypnol," Lestrade eventually stated as though it were the only solution.

"Mm?"

"The date-rape drug, Sherlock," John explained. "Powerful sedative, muscle relaxant and-"

"Amnesic," Sherlock finished.

"Explains the lack of memory," Lestrade offered.

"Doesn't explain everything," countered Sherlock.

"Doesn't explain how the lion got into my bathroom," John muttered.

"What?"

Sherlock ignored Lestrade's outcry. "Precisely, John. Neither of us would have attempted such a thing with only Rohypnol in our system. This implies more than a few pints of alcohol were had."

"Would you mind filling me in here? A lion?"

"Yes. You haven't seen the CCTV footage yet?" Sherlock frowned, quickly turning to look at Lestrade. "I had Mycroft send it here."

"What CCTV footage?" Lestrade continued in his confusion.

"From the zoo," said John.

"Zoo? What are you talking about? Sherlock?"

But something else had captured the consulting detective's attention over Lestrade's shoulder. "I think I know what's happened." His voice had a slightly annoyed tone to it.

John and Lestrade turned and followed Sherlock's gaze. Sergeant Sally Donovan and Forensic Specialist Anderson were watching something on Donovan's computer screen. From the way their shoulder were shaking, they were clearly amused by what they were seeing.

"Donovan! Anderson!" Lestrade's voice was loud enough to reach them clearly. The pair stiffened and slowly turned. "Here. Now. And bring that video footage with you."

"Have a good night last night, Freak?" Donovan drawled as she and Anderson entered Lestrade's office a minute later. John felt the usual anger rise up in him at Donovan's name for Sherlock. Curling one hand into a fist, he controlled his anger. The fact that Sherlock never seemed to mind didn't help in that either.

"I've had better," Sherlock replied calmly. "I presume you and Anderson had a good night also. Just because you now wear different deodorants, doesn't mean it's not obvious. Oh and how are things with your wife, Anderson?"

Anderson's face screwed up in an unattractive scowl and Donovan bristled. "So, you saw us leave together from the pub last night. Well done," she said, harshly sarcastic. "Your powers of observation amaze me."

"You were drugged. How can you remember seeing us leave together?" Anderson said.

"How'd you know they were drugged?" Lestrade frowned.

Anderson rolled his eyes. "Just because the psychopath thinks I'm an incompetent fool."

"Not _thinks. _Knows." Sherlock said.

"Whatever you all _think, _I'm still a forensic specialist," Anderson continued, disgusted. "I've seen the footage from the zoo. I know drugged and intoxicated when I see it."

"The footage then," Lestrade held out a hand and Donovan gave him the tape. "Thank you."

"Enjoy the show," Donovan said in droll boredom.

"You two can go now," Lestrade told them with a wave of his hand and Sherlock shot them both a satisfied grin, knowing it would annoy them both.

As the door shut behind them, Lestrade apologised to John and Sherlock. "If I had known..."

"Just play the tape," Sherlock waved the apology away and with a slight sense of foreboding, Lestrade hit 'play'.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I still do not own.

_Wow - this chapter got seriously longer than previous chapters. It's a lot harder than I expected to write CCTV footage. Hope it's still ok with you all and hope you still enjoy. :) As always comments and feedback are most welcome. ;)_

* * *

_**EIGHT - in which Lestrade is amused (and John has a brief panic attack)**_

The CCTV footage was time stamped at 1:53 AM. Divided into four, it showed footage from four separate cameras around the zoo.

The grainy picture in the top left corner showed two figures stumbling down the main path of the zoo. The three people watching instantly knew it was John and Sherlock. And despite the poor visual quality, the audio was conveniently quite clear.

"_What are you doing, Sherlock?"_

"_Experimenting," the consulting detective slurring, before giggling slightly._

"_Sherlock, this is London Zoo," John joined in on his flatmates infectious laughter._

"_Precisely. I... I need to expand..." Hiccup. "Expand my experimenting. Animals are the most... logical step after humans..."_

_John frowned and stumbled slightly. "Does this mean that I'll be finding animal body parts in the fridge instead of human?"_

"_Quite possibly."_

"_Well... well, that's a relief then."_

"_I want a lion!" Sherlock sounded like an eight year old girl wanting a doll and John didn't appear to argue. _

To John's left, Lestrade snorted with laughter, quickly covering it up with an unconvincing cough. Sherlock shot the detective a disapproving look.

"Sorry Sherlock" Lestrade apologised. "But you're drunk..." he trailed off into a light chuckle. "You. Drunk. It's just so... hilarious, not to mention totally wrong... somehow." And John couldn't help but agree.

"I knew I was right in my consuming of alcohol," Sherlock decided on ignoring Lestrade. "The Rohypnol probably blinded my good judgement." John resisted the urge to repeat 'good judgement' back at him in an incredulous tone and instead turned back to the footage as the figures of John and Sherlock appeared in the bottom left camera.

"_Shh... Sherlock!" John whispered tightly as though trying to be serious. "They'll hear!"_

"_No one's here but us," Sherlock slurred the words together. "What'll I do, wake the monkeys?" He sniggered in a very uncharacteristic way. _

"_Monkeys!" John laughed as though this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Sherlock... Sherlock..."_

"_What?"_

"_These are the monkeys here..." and he pointed to a cage off camera. "I thought... Didn't you want a lion? They're the other way," and he dissolved into giggles._

_Sherlock, seemingly unfazed by this, took hold of John's arm and led him away. _

Back in Lestrade's office, John shifted uncomfortably. Had this been anyone else other than himself and Sherlock, he would have found it highly amusing. However, he had other serious things on his mind. Had they been married when this had happened? He dreaded to think of what would happen if one of them said something on the CCTV footage. Pushing the anxiety to the back of his mind he focused once again on the screen, which now showed Sherlock picking the lock on a building outside what he presumed was the lion's enclosure.

"_Sherlock, you're not going to find a lion in there."_

_The door clicked open. "I know that! I'm getting a trans...tranc... tranquilizer!"_

"_No, no. I'm not letting you play with a tranquilizer," John shook his head firmly, but was ignored by Sherlock who disappeared into the small building. There was a bang followed by a crash before Sherlock immerged again with an overly large gun. _

"_If you hit me with one of those, I will never forgive you."_

"_This coming from the man who just-"_

"_Well, I'm not going to help you carry an unconscious lion back home," John cut in and then frowned. "Why do you want a lion again?"_

"_You're sobering up," Sherlock with mock graveness. "And I'll tip half the tranquilizer fluid out. It'll still be able to walk... just... Oh, I know! It'll be drunk! Like us!" He giggled and John joined in again. _

Back in his office, Lestrade stifled another laugh. Knowing what the two men in the footage were really like made it all the more hilarious for him. Hiding a smirk behind his hand, Lestrade continued watching as John and Sherlock appeared in the final two corners of the screen. The footage was only brief and showed only glimpses of them and a lion being smuggled out of its enclosure.

Sherlock and John struck up conversation again as the top left screen again showed them, this time leaving (Sherlock with a fist around the mane of a stumbling lion).

_John staggered along beside Sherlock and the lion, giggling uncontrollably. No doubt at the ridiculous situation they were in._

"_D'you... think I could ride on the lion back home?" John said through the laughter._

"_Oh no, you'd ruin my experiment."_

"_I thought I said no experimenting on the lion..." John said, frowning._

"_Spoil sport," Sherlock huffed. John murmured something incoherent and the pair collapsed into giggles again, half leaning on the lion for support. Moments later they ambled out the main gate._

The tape froze as it finished and John sighed, running a hand over his face. Silently he vowed never to let Sherlock drink alcohol again. Glancing at the taller man, John noticed he looked slightly embarrassed also, which succeeded in making him feel slightly better.

"I'll tell them off, but you do realise there is no way Anderson and Donovan are going to let you forget this," Lestrade said leaning forward to switch the tape off.

"I wouldn't have expected anything else from them," Sherlock said straightforwardly. John nodded in accord.

"At least you didn't steal a police car," Lestrade continued. "I would have known about that." He gave a weak chuckle as the room descended into silence. John couldn't help thinking that it might have been less stressful if they _had _stolen a police car. "So, uh, what happened to the lion?"

"From what we know, we managed to take it through Regent's Park and back to Baker Street," answered Sherlock.

"And then lock it in my bathroom," muttered John.

"Of course. Cannot forget that, can we," Sherlock shot John and grin and the doctor inwardly sighed at how Sherlock seemed to be enjoying this again.

"And you said Mycroft's sorted it all out?" Lestrade said, trying to work it all out in his mind. John and Sherlock both nodded; the latter rather reluctantly as though he was annoyed he had to call upon his brother to sort it out.

"God knows what you must have got up to besides this lion incident." Lestrade muttered with a shake of his head. John glanced at Sherlock, who appeared not to notice. Swallowing roughly, John felt as though the wedding ring in his pocket had just increased to the weight of a bowling ball; weighing him down. Had they gotten up to anything else last night?

And then something suddenly clicked into place. John's mouth fell open in indescribable shock. "Oh my..."

"What?" Lestrade and Sherlock spoke together, the latter fixing sharp eyes on John. "John?"

"We need to talk, Sherlock," John said, forcing his mouth to work and staring wide-eyed at his flatmate. Lestrade frowned in confusion watching on as Sherlock narrowed eyes at John, who now looked pointedly back.

Sensing he was missing something, Lestrade gave a nod of his head, gesturing to the door. "Go on."

John wasted no time in pulling Sherlock out into main corridor. With nervous eyes flitting back and forth, the doctor led him down until they found an empty room. John shut the door behind them, before turning to Sherlock, who spoke.

"John, what are you-?"

"We need to find out what happened last night!" John's voice had risen higher again in stress.

"I know, John. Why do you think we-"

"I mean, what happened between us! We're _married _remember. We've possibly been drugged with Rohypnol. And Mrs Hudson said we sounded 'involved'. And you woke up _naked_ for god's sake!"

"Meaning?"

"Do I have to spell it out to you? Wait, no. Don't answer that," John paused and took a deep breath. Nervously he ran a hand through his hair.

"You think we had sex at some point last night?" Sherlock asked and John cringed at the casualness with which he said it.

"What other conclusion can you draw?"

Sherlock quirked his lips into a slight smile. "We didn't have sex, John."

"How can you know, though? We can't remember anything!"

"Let me finish. I don't have to be a doctor to recognise the physical changes that occur in my own body post sexual intercourse." John cringed again. "As I don't have sufficient knowledge of your own body, I cannot say the same for you. But I'm sure you can work that out for yourself. And you know Mrs Hudson's got an overimaginative mind. I suspect she enjoys watching us squirm."

"Oh..." relief washed over John as Sherlock finished. He instantly felt guilty and embarrassed at his now obvious overreaction and turned red. "Sorry."

"Quite alright," Sherlock waved it off with a smile.

John returned the smile, albeit weakly. "I guess I'm just paranoid about this whole forgetting last night thing. Wish we knew what happened already." Sherlock nodded in thoughtful agreement. "Is it weird that I'm finding comfort in your..." John trailed off, trying to think of a tactful way of explaining it.

"In my logical, emotionally detached, calm way of looking at this?"

"Well, I was looking for a more polite way of saying that, but yes."

Sherlock nodded. "Well, no. It's not weird. It's only reasonable."

"Thank you, then."

"You're welcome," Sherlock replied, before adding, "Besides, I always sleep naked."

John didn't know whether to be shocked or not. Either way, that was something he really didn't need to know. He was then (thankfully) spared any further thought as his phone rang.

The number wasn't one he recognised.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock still isn't mine... neither is the brief dialogue which I may have borrowed from an NCIS episode - can you pick it? :P

_And so I continue with Chapter 9. This one goes out to _Obwohl _who wanted to read a "highly embarrassing urine sample donation". How could I resist? (hint hint - this is where the NCIS dialogue is put into play) Also, I just want to add that my knowledge of the British medical/hospital system (or A&E's in general) is not great, so anything mentioned in here is just what I've got off the web. Please feel free to let me know if I'm wrong about anything and i'll do my best to amend it. _

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. :D Reviews are love as always. _

* * *

_**NINE - in which a trip to the hospital is needed (and Sally has something further to say)**_

John and Sherlock shared a brief look before John took the call. "Hello, John Watson."

"_Hello Mr. Watson. This is Nurse Jacinta Maitland from the University College Hospital. I have your test results from last night and also those of a Mr Holmes. They need to be collected and discussed."_

John looked over at Sherlock who, in turn, gave him an expectant look. "Um, Jacinta, can you give me a moment, please?"

"_Of course, sir."_

John took the phone from his ear and covered the mouth piece. "It's someone from the Uni College Hospital. They have some test results for us. From last night. I think we must have gone to the A&E there."

Sherlock's face visibly brightened. "Brilliant, John," he said, elated. "Don't you see? This could be our next breakthrough into finding out what happened last night. Tell them... tell them we will be right over to collect the results."

John nodded, uncovering the mouth piece. "Jacinta, are you still there?"

"_Yes, sir."_

"Myself and Mr Holmes aren't far away. Will the results be ready for collection in approximately half an hour?"

"_Of course. I'll see you soon then, Mr Watson."_

"Thank you. Bye." John disconnected and turned to Sherlock who grinned widely.

"The game is on, John." John returned the grin and then followed his flatmate out of the room. Before leaving, they stopped to say goodbye to Lestrade. Or rather, John told Sherlock they should as it was only polite; Sherlock merely grumbled.

"Lestrade?" John opened the door to his office and the detective looked up. "We'll be off now."

"You ok then?" Lestrade looked both worried and curious after their sudden departure earlier.

"All sorted," Sherlock smiled wolfishly before John could speak.

"So you got something then?" Lestrade said, looking from John to Sherlock.

"Hospital just called with the results of some tests we apparently did last night," John explained. "We're off to collect them."

Lestrade nodded. "Good luck then, you two. Be in contact." Both Sherlock and John nodded in farewell before leaving.

They had nearly made it out when Sally Donovan appeared and stopped them.

"What do you want?" Sherlock said stiffly.

"Listen," she began. "I know we don't get on and as much as I hate to admit it... you _are_ needed around here," she said with a reluctant sigh. John raised an eyebrow in surprise and sideways glanced at Sherlock, but the taller man was impassive. "I don't know what happened with you two, but I just wanted to tell you what I saw last night."

"What?" Sherlock asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"I was outside when you were getting a cab. I was going to say something at the time, but it wasn't any of my business."

"What happened?" John asked, slightly anxious.

"I heard you giving the taxi driver the address. And, well, last time I checked you two didn't live in Greek Street, Soho."

"Greek Street?" John and Sherlock shared a look. They both knew London well enough to know what Greek Street was famous for its multitude of pubs, bars and clubs.

"Yeah," Sally muttered, looking awkward. "Sorry." Sherlock didn't reply. With an unreadable face he simply turned and walked away.

John gave a weak smile. "I'd better..." he nodded at Sherlock's retreating form. "Thanks again."

"Anytime," replied Sally.

John jogged to catch up to Sherlock and his long striding steps. "So, Greek Street?"

"We'll get to that," Sherlock said, clearly deep in thought. "But right now, we're expected at the hospital."

~ *XX* ~

University College Hospital's A&E sees approximately 80,000 patients a year. At least, that's what the plaque on the wall said as John and Sherlock entered the main reception area.

"John Watson, I'm here to collect some test results," John said as they approached the main desk. Beside him, Sherlock hid a smile at how John, seemingly unconsciously, slipped into his 'professional doctor voice'.

"What tests were done, Sir?" The receptionist at the counter paused in her typing to look up at them.

"Er, blood tests I think. I spoke to a Nurse Jacinta Maitland."

"I'll get her for you," she paused and her eyes turned to Sherlock before flitting back to John. "I'm afraid your partner will have to remain in the waiting area."

"Partner? No, no we're not together. He's just..."

"I have test results to collect too," Sherlock explained, saving John from any further embarrassment.

The receptionist nodded, but John could tell she wasn't completely convinced. "Nurse Maitland will be with you both momentarily then. Please take a seat."

"Is she the same nurse that saw us last night?" Sherlock asked with a frown.

"Nurse Maitland did have the early shift this morning in A&E, yes."

"But surely she-"

"Cutbacks," the receptionist shrugged in response to Sherlock's unasked question. John gave her an empathetic smile. "Please, take a seat."

"Thank you."

Nurse Jacinta Maitland arrived rather promptly a few minutes later. Thankfully saving John and Sherlock an awkwardly long stay in the waiting room (the receptionist kept shooting the pair of them looks as though she was still trying to decide if they were a couple or not).

"I do have your test results," Nurse Maitland said after introducing herself, warming shaking both their hands, despite Sherlock's discomfort. "However, I'll need a urine sample from you both for a follow up." She handed them both plastic medical sample bottles. "The bathroom is down the hallway on your left," she smiled. Purposely avoiding Sherlock's face, John then hurried down the hallway hearing the taller man follow behind him.

Five minutes later John and Sherlock were taken into a small medical examination room, each still clutching a small sample bottle.

"You should drink more water," Sherlock commented offhandedly.

"Sherlock..."

"Your urine's too dark."

"Sherlock!" John blushed furiously. "I'm hungover. And it's not as if yours is... wait, I cannot believe I'm commenting on this." He groaned and shook his head.

"Neither can I," Nurse Maitland said, hiding a smile. "I'll get these sent off for testing now. The follow up results should be in within the next 48 hours." And taking both samples off John and Sherlock she scrawled on the label and left the room again. "I'll be right back."

Sherlock spoke after half a minute's silence. "Water?"

"What?"

Sherlock pointed to the water cooler in the corner of the room, his lips tugging into a smile as John raised an eyebrow. Not bothering to wait for a reply, Sherlock calmly got them both a cup. "You can't deny not wanting some," Sherlock said with a pointed look and smile.

With a small pout, John took the water and surprised himself by downing the liquid in seconds. Then, placing the empty cup down, he sighed. John was prepared to bet £100 that the forthcoming medical consult with Nurse Maitland would be nothing but just plain awkward and embarrassing.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock still isn't mine.

_I'm really sorry for the lack of updating. I hope this chapter makes up for it. :) Reviews are love, as always. :)_

* * *

_**TEN - in which medical histories and weddings become clearer (and the nurse is obviously a John/Sherlock slash supporter)**_

Nurse Jacinta Maitland re-entered the room and closed the door behind her. Turning she smiled fondly at John and Sherlock.

"Oh, so how are you, my dears?" she gushed, sounding not unlike Mrs Hudson. "Sorry about the professional manner earlier. You know how it is," she shrugged and John, understanding, nodded. "Well, congratulations then!" She smiled widely. "How was it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Your wedding ceremony, of course!" And John looked like he wanted the Earth to open up and consume him.

"Oh, of course. Our wedding," Sherlock shot Nurse Maitland a charming smile. "And when exactly last night was that again?"

The nurse looked between them, confused. Then with sudden realisation she looked crestfallen. "Of course," she said, sympathetically. "I'm sorry, that was insensitive and I digress. We must discuss your test results." John and Sherlock remained silent as she sat down at the small desk and rifled through the notes on her clipboard. "Your blood-works came in just before I phoned you. You both had blood alcohol readings well over the legal limit for driving."

Sherlock and John shared a look. "Anything else?" They both knew what was coming.

"You also both had traces of Rohypnol in your system. The date-rape drug," she paused in a professional manner, before continuing. "If you both wish, we can organise further testing for any sexually transmitted diseases you may have... acquired. Counselling can also be provided if needed. I understand if-"

"That won't be necessary," Sherlock said, as John nodded beside him, feeling his cheeks flush in embarrassment already.

Nurse Maitland glanced between them, kindly. "I understand how difficult this must be for you both and people are often in denial, but I assure you there is nothing to be embarrassed about or-"

John cut her off this time, finally finding his voice. "Really, that will not be needed. We both understand the effects of the drug. I'm a doctor, myself. The only effect of the Rohypnol we are suffering is memory loss."

"Actually, there is something I don't understand," Sherlock cut in. "My body has a built up resistance to most drugs. How is it that the Rohypnol affected me just as much as it did John?"

"You both had large quantities of alcohol in your system, it is possible-"

"Oh, of course," Sherlock said with a tone that suggested he was annoyed at himself for not realising sooner. "My body is resistant to drugs, but not to alcohol. I've hardly ever drunk in my entire life. The combination of the alcohol with the Rohypnol would certainly account for my memory loss."

John muttered something which sounded very much like 'lightweight'. Not knowing what or who a 'lightweight' was, Sherlock ignored him and turned to Nurse Maitland again. "Is there anything else you can tell us about last night when we came in?"

The nurse glanced between them again, as though fully aware they were avoiding her statements by changing the topic. Clearing her throat softly she glanced down at her notes again. "You came in at 3:02 AM last night."

"Do you know why?" John asked.

Nurse Maitland smiled at that. "You just wanted a medical check up. Mr Watson was adamant he was able to do it himself, but Mr Holmes was less sure and wanted a second opinion." Sherlock and John turned to each other again; the former grinned as the latter blushed.

"Why did we want a medical check up?"

"You both wanted to check you were in good health before you got married."

"Do people usually do that before getting married?" Sherlock asked, somewhat curiously.

"Not usually, no," John said with a sigh.

"You were both very excited about it," the nurse continued. "Apparently you'd already found a place that would do the service and you'd just wanted to get checked out before tying the knot."

John groaned and placed his head in his hands. This was beginning to sound more ridiculous than the "Lion-in-the-bathroom" incident. He couldn't quite believe he was managing to stay so clam. "Was there anything else?" he asked, rather reluctantly looking up again.

The nurse looked down at the clipboard again. "You were both highly intoxicated when you arrived at A&E. Mr Holmes was sick in one of the pot plants. You both had blood tests done and a basic physical check up done by myself. And you both refused hospital bands on departure."

"Oh," was all John could muster.

"Sorry," Sherlock added, sounding highly genuine.

Nurse Maitland smiled kindly at them. "We all do stupid things when we drink."

"Like getting married," John muttered.

"You didn't mean to get married?" She sounded shocked as it dawned on her. "But you're both so good together!"

"You have no idea how untrue that is," John said.

"That wasn't your opinion last night," Nurse Maitland said. "I think your last discussion was about whether you would get silver or gold rings." John groaned again.

"I understand that marriage involves a proposal of some sort," Sherlock began with a slight frown. "Do you know who proposed to whom?"

"Three guesses who," John said sarcastically as Nurse Maitland said "Mr Watson, of course."

Sherlock chuckled lightly, turning to John with a grin. His face dropped at the pained expression John wore. Unsure, Sherlock frowned and reached forward to place a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. John flinched at the touch and Sherlock quickly withdrew with a muttered apology, feeling confused. They locked eyes for a moment longer before Nurse Maitland coughed and they both snapped back to her. She gave them both a somewhat fond smile.

"Is there anything else from last night you can tell us?" Asked Sherlock. "It's important we know everything you know." There was a softer tone in his voice that implied he was making up for laughing at John a moment earlier.

"That's all I know, I'm afraid," the nurse said.

"So we can go now?" John questioned, looking more than a little hopeful.

Nurse Maitland looked between them, conflicted. It was clear she was still not convinced they were ok and were still avoiding some things.

"We're both fine," Sherlock reiterated as though reading her mind. "We just want to find out what happened to us last night."

"Very well then," she sighed slightly and smiled again.

They all simultaneously stood. Nurse Maitland collected the reports and test results together, then headed forward to open the door.

"Thank you," John said as they entered the reception area again. They shook hands.

"Hope it all works out for you," she smiled kindly again before turning to Sherlock. "You too, Mr Holmes."

"Uh... thanks," Sherlock muttered.

Nurse Maitland nodded, seemingly unfazed by Sherlock's apparent indifferent. "Your follow up results should be in around 48 hours. I'll contact you then, if you like."

"Thank you, again," John said. "We should-"

"Come on, John," Sherlock cut in, tugging slightly on John's jacket. "Time to go."

John sighed and gave shot Nurse Maitland a final apologetic, sympathetic look; Sherlock had already begun to leave the hospital.

"Good luck," Nurse Maitland whispered and John forced a smile. Jogging, he caught up with Sherlock again. As they left the reception area, John noticed a missing pot plant in the corner and stopped (Sherlock kept walking).

"_John...I don't... I don't feel so good..."_

_John and Sherlock stumbled through the A&E reception at University College Hospital._

"_Awh, don't be sick Sherlock... you're my future husband... that's be so embar... embarrassing."_

"_Apologies in advance, John..." Sherlock replied, tripping over nothing._

_Less than a minute later and Sherlock was bent over a pot plant in the corner and vomiting copiously into it. John giggled slightly and considered taking a picture. But then he realised where he was and what Sherlock was doing._

_He groaned and prayed to God Sherlock wouldn't remember._

John blinked and the flashback ended. With a small shake of his head, he then left University College Hospital and caught Sherlock up.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock is still not mine.

_I am sorry for not updating sooner. But the holiday season is starting to take over. :) It's also worth mentioning that I've never actually been to Greek Street. What I know about it here, is just what I've seen on _Google Maps _and on the net. You've got to love technology. :P __Hope you all enjoy this chapter anyway and please leave a review. :)_

* * *

_**ELEVEN - in which John and Sherlock make a trip to Greek Street (and we discover Sherlock is partial to vodka shots)**_

Sherlock hailed a cab with his usual ease as soon as they left the hospital.

"Greek Street, Soho," he told the cab driver, somewhat brusquely.

"Thank you," added John, who shot Sherlock a look which clearly meant 'there is no need to be rude'. Sherlock replied by raising his eyebrow, silently reminding John of their first case together involving a serial killer cabbie.

"Bit early, aren't you?" the cab driver said.

"Sorry?"

"Greek Street. That place doesn't really kick off 'til at least 10 PM."

John and Sherlock simultaneously glanced at their watches. It was 2:35 in the afternoon. Their driver did have a point.

"We're headed there on business," Sherlock said in a tone which suggested he was not going to disclose any further information. The cabbie gave a non-committal shrug and no one spoke for the remainder of the journey.

~ *XX* ~

Stepping out of the cab, Sherlock took a moment to look around. He'd been to Greek Street once before in pursuit of a suspect for a case. But only now did he pay attention. The old brick buildings were standard in most London street, but nearly all these here had been converted into bars, restaurants and clubs. Most of which looked somewhat seedy.

"Classy," John muttered from behind the taller man.

"Why did we choose Greek Street?"

"Of all the places..." John trailed off in agreement. The street was rather empty and only a few places were open, but it gave the impression it would be booming in a few hours time. "Are we still able to blame the Rohypnol for getting us here?"

Sherlock gave a small smile. "I think that's a safe scapegoat for the moment, yes." John gave a weak chuckle. "Looking familiar?" Sherlock asked a second later and it was hard for John to miss the hope in his voice.

"Unfortunately no," John replied.

"Neither."

Struck by a sudden idea, John pulled a convenient notepad and pad from his jacket pocket. Thinking back to what they knew so far, he began to write down a rough timeline of events from previous night.

"Good thinking, John," Sherlock approved after a quickly glance at the shorter man's writings. He returned to gazing up and down the street and glaring suspiciously at the various bars and clubs as though they were singularly responsible for the mess they were in now.

"I'd say we were here for about three hours." John said after a moment.

Sherlock sniffed and gave a brisk nod. "This way. Come on. We can ask around. See if anyone remembers us."

John thought it was a long shot, but kept the comment to himself and followed Sherlock down the footpath, stopping when he did outside Club 49.

"Sherlock," John sighed. "This place isn't going to open until later. There's no point in-"

"No, I remember this one," Sherlock replied with a frown. And the memory flashback appeared in his mind almost instantaneously.

"_Club 49!" John grinned widely. Sherlock suspected that if he were under the influence of just one additional beer, he would have given a cheer._

"_What a ridiculous name for a club."_

"_Ridiculous!" John looked scandalised at the mere suggestion._

"_If they were going to name it after a number they could have at least chosen something witty or relevant. Club 42 springs to mind..."_

"_What? Come on, Sherlock. The line's not too long. Let's go, let's go!"_

_Sherlock sighed, feeling strange. He knew this was different behaviour to what he usually displayed, but he an impulse to join John in the club._

"Sherlock?"

"I remember," Sherlock said, meeting John's eyes. "At least... I remember thinking Club 49 was a nonsensical name for a club."

John snorted lightly. "Of course you did. Anything else?"

"No," Sherlock shook his head and turned away again. He decided not to share the strange impulsive feelings with John. They were just the effects of the Rohypnol in his system, no doubt. The same effects that were responsible for Sherlock deciding on consuming alcohol.

"Well, at least you remembered something," John said.

"Smaller brain and memory capacity, John," Sherlock leaned forward and tapped John's forehead lightly. The shorter man curled a lip in annoyance and pulled back.

"You've mentioned, Sherlock."

"Sherlock?" An unfamiliar, drawling voice asked from behind them and they both spun around. A young, blonde woman was standing there, bag in one hand and a smile on her face. "Well, I didn't think I'd be seeing you back here so soon."

John and Sherlock shared a look. "I'm sorry," John eventually said. "Do we know you?"

"And you must be John Watson."

"Yes... Sorry, excuse me?"

"How do you know us?" Sherlock asked. The young woman frowned for a moment, clearly confused, but answered anyway.

"Last night. Club 49. I was behind the bar." Her frown deepened at their blank looks. "You don't remember?"

"Not exactly," John said with an embarrassed smile.

To their shock she began to laugh. "Well, can't say you're the first. Happens a lot round here. And I'm Ruby, by the way."

"So what can you tell us about last night?" Sherlock asked.

"Slow down there, Sherly," she held up her hands, still grinning. "Don't you want a drink or something? It's always straight to business with you."

"Sherly?"

"No, we don't want anything to drink thank you and don't call me Sherly," Sherlock replied, ignoring John's amused outcry and resulting giggle. "But last night?"

It was hard to believe, but Ruby must have dealt with much ruder customers than Sherlock, because she then merely shrugged at the drinks refusal and told them what she knew of the previous night. "I first saw you, Sherlock, around 11:00, I guess. You looked pretty out of it, but you were able to order a drink just fine. Perfect manners and everything," she gave a smile. "I thought it'd be alright."

"What did I order?"

"A beer at first. But you saw some other guy doing vodka shots and wanted some too." She shrugged. John groaned and mouthed 'vodka shots?'.

"Then what?" Sherlock asked, looking determined to not be embarrassed by what he was hearing.

"Well you got all D&M with me. I get it a lot, mostly from the older blokes..."

"D and M?"

"Deep and meaningful," John explained and Sherlock gave a nod of thanks.

"It was mostly drunken rambling and I couldn't exactly make much of it out, but you mentioned Dr John Watson a fair few times," Ruby admitted.

"I did?"

"Sure. 'Course I didn't know who that was at the time."

"Did you see me at all last night?" John asked.

"You weren't at the bar with Sherlock... although..." she screwed her face up in concentration. "Actually, yeah. I remember you now. You're the one who practically dragged Sherlock out onto the dance floor."

"Oh dear Lord. I wish I never asked," John groaned.

"We danced?" Sherlock asked surprised and Ruby gave a small nod and then a knowing smile. And John was reminded of Nurse Maitland for a moment.

"You were kind of sweet on each other, actually" she said.

"Brilliant," John said quickly with thick sarcasm. "Do you know how long we stayed?"

"Couldn't tell you, sorry. But it wouldn't have been all night. No one comes to Greek Street just to stay in the one club or bar."

"Thanks," John said with a smile.

"Anytime, guys," Ruby returned the smile, although she was looking at Sherlock rather than John. "And feel free to drop in anytime... I'd love it if-"

"He's married to his work," John cut in, looking rather annoyed and feeling suddenly very protective.

"Oh."

"John's right," Sherlock said in accord.

Ruby looked slightly disappointed, but shrugged again anyway. "That's ok. Just let me know if you ever want some time off work." She winked. "Oh and speaking of which. I'd better head off and get ready for work myself. Hope I helped you boys and hope to see you around." She flashed another smile before hurrying off and through a side door at Club 49.

John turned to Sherlock. "Thanks."

"What for?"

"For not telling her you were also married to me," John muttered.

Sherlock smiled slightly at how thankful John sounded. "No worries, John. Now come on. Let's see if we can find anyone else who can enlighten us some more."


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock is not mine. Neither is the _Best Little Wedding Chapel _(which doesn't exist and was only created for the movie The Hangover)

_Apologies first for the delay in updating. The festive season (and the resulting celebrations and parties with family/friends) has been keeping me busy. I hope you all had a lovely Christmas/Hanukkah/Holiday/Festivus (etc). And I hope you all enjoy this chapter too. :) Dedication and thanks must go out to _**XMillieX **_who gave me the idea of having John run into his ex-girlfriend while trying to get divorced. Just to mortify him even more. :P _

_Reviews are love. _

* * *

_**TWELVE - in which the marriage begins to sort itself out (but not without some embarrassing pictures first)**_

John and Sherlock spent the next hour wandering Greek Street, purposely striding into nearly every bar and club with the hope someone else would recognise them. Their search proved fruitless.

They had just left The Soho Bar when John spotted it. A tiny sign, nearly hidden between two older clubs across the road.

_BEST LITTLE WEDDING CHAPEL_

"Sherlock."

"Mmm?"

John pointed to the sign. "You don't think?"

Sherlock's face lit up gleefully. "I do think. Brilliant. Do you think they're open?"

"I didn't even realise places like this existed in London," John replied with a frown as they began walking towards it in unison. "D'you think they do divorces too?"

"Let's hope so," Sherlock replied in a tone that mimicked John's want of a divorce.

The Best Little Wedding Chapel was tucked in behind one of the older clubs. On the outside it appeared dingy, but as Sherlock and John stepped through the doors it changed into a contrasting, pristine, white-walled room.

"Wow," was all John could mutter as he glanced around the room. A small reception area was in the corner and opposite was a large white couch. The walls were filled with pictures of married couples. John couldn't help noticing that in all of them, the happy pair looked more than just a little drunk.

"Good afternoon, sirs," said the young man, who was barely visible behind the counter. "How can I help you?"

"Oh, um..." John stuttered as both he and Sherlock stepped towards the counter. "This is going to sound like a strange question, but were we here last night?" John felt his cheeks heat up with red embarrassment already.

"Names?" The man seemed rather bored with his job, as though he encountered many people like John and Sherlock on a daily basis.

"John Watson and Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock replied.

"Yep, you guys were here last night alright," he said with a slight smile looking up at them both. "Are you here to collect your order?"

"Order?"

The young man frowned slightly before quickly picking up the phone and dialling. "Madison? Yes. I need you to bring in the Holmes lot. They were in last night. Yeah, just bring it up the front. Thank you." He replaced the phone and turned back to John and Sherlock's wide eyed faces.

"Sorry, but what do you mean by order?"

"You're very lucky. It only came in this morning."

"Order?"

The man gave them a condescending look before replying. He read a list off the computer screen in front of him. "The ten copies of the wedding photo album, the ten novelty coffee mugs, the ten embroidered hand towels and the ten calendars."

"What!" John exclaimed. He turned to Sherlock, who looked torn between shock and amusement. The expression did not look out of place on his face. John opened his mouth, intending on swearing but his throat closed off as the Madison on the phone came through the back door pushing a trolley full of boxes. His heart dropped through his stomach. He knew her.

"David, did you want me to-" Madison was cut short as she looked over and caught sight of John. "Oh my God! John Watson!" She squealed and John once again found himself wishing the Earth could open up and eat him.

"John?" Sherlock questioned softly.

"Oh, John! It's been too long!"

"Hello Mads," John said, clearly pained. "How have you been?"

"Oh, you know. Busy, but enjoying life," she grinned widely before it dropped and she frowned. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Ex-girlfriend of yours, I presume?" Sherlock enquired and Madison's eyes snapped to him as though noticing the taller man for the first time.

"Yes," John blushed. "We were together at college before she dropped out."

"Charming to meet you," Sherlock smiled and Madison smiled back rather fondly, not at all fazed.

"And you," she said to Sherlock. Then turning to John again she grinned, her tongue poking out between her teeth. "Batting for the other team now, John?"

"What? No, no, no. We were just... uh... It was a mistake... Drugs and alcohol and we... Can't actually remember it, you know." He gave a cringe-worthy false laugh, blushing profusely now.

"Of course," she said, widening her smile. "So, shall we open up these boxes?"

"Dear God, no," John groaned.

"Aw, come on, John. No need to be embarrassed in front of me," Madison said.

"I am rather intrigued as to what we've actually bought," added Sherlock.

"Fine," John threw up his hands in defeat and pushed back the foreboding feeling. "Ok, open them."

Madison grinned and wheeled the trolley around to the other side of the counter. Pulling a pen knife from her pocked she cut the first box open. It contained the coffee mugs and the calendars. She pulled out a mug first. Emblazoned on the side was a joyous picture of Sherlock and John in tuxedos. Their faces were pressed together side by side, faint hints of blushes gracing their cheeks. In any other circumstances it would have been a rather nice shot. It was slightly ruined, however, by the pink hearts which surrounded it and the curled words which said "_John and Sherlock. Together Forever._"

Neither John nor Sherlock could find words. Finally John let out another groan and closed his eyes as though wishing it would all disappear. He suddenly felt very sick.

Madison made a sickening 'Aww' noise and John snapped back to attention. She had pulled out a calendar and was slowly flicking through it. Each month seemed to have a different picture of John and Sherlock posing, uncharacteristically, underneath an alter.

John risked a sideways glance at Sherlock. The taller man looked impassive, but John didn't miss the hints of embarrassment and confusion in his eyes. John, for his part, shared the embarrassment. Watching as his ex-girlfriend flicked through wedding photos of him and Sherlock was definitely topping 'John Watson's Top Most Embarrassing Moments of All Time'.

"So, shall we get out the embroidered hand towels, then?" Madison asked, cheekily glancing at John.

"Embroidered with what?" Sherlock asked.

"Do we really need to find out?" John asked with a sigh.

"Aw, ok. I'll stop teasing you now," Madison said.

"Thanks."

With that the boxes were packed away again, leaving John and Sherlock wondering what exactly they'd do with them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock does not belong to me.

_I apologise for the lateness of updating and for the shortness of this chapter. I hope you can all forgive me and I hope to update sooner next time (It's not finished yet... despite the lack of cliffhanger at the end of this chapter). :) I have a feeling, also, that the characters are becoming even more OOC... unsure if that's even possible in this fic. But I'm still enjoying writing this, and I hope you enjoy it too. :) Reviews are love. _

* * *

_**THIRTEEN - in which John and Sherlock get an annulment**_

John tore his eyes from the boxes before him. A minute of pondering had produced only one solution as to what he could do with the souvenirs. Destroy them. Preferably by means of fire.

He turned to the receptionist, David and asked the one question he had been dying to ask since the moment he entered The Best Little Wedding Chapel. "So, erm... do you do divorces?" he asked.

"Annulments, yes," David replied.

"It means the marriage is left void. It never will have happened," Madison explained at both John and Sherlock's confused looks.

"We hate doing them," David continued. "But we understand how things can happen." And John gave an appreciative nod.

"How long will it take?" Sherlock asked.

"Barely a moment," Madison said.

"You just need to fill out these forms and sign at the end," David continued and pulled out two sheets of paper.

"That's it?" John asked, slightly amazed at how simple it all seemed.

"What were you expecting? Another ceremony complete with tuxedos?"

"Well, we can arrange that if you wish..." David began, but was cut off by Sherlock.

"This is fine. Thank you."

True to Madison's word, the annulment documents took barely a moment to complete. David collected the papers and with a flourish declared, "Done."

"I now declare you no longer husband and husband," Madison added.

Relief flooded through John. It seemed as though something had finally gone right for them today. He turned to Sherlock and smiled. For a moment he thought he saw a hint of confusion in the taller man's eyes, but Sherlock was smiling back a millisecond later. The relief was clear.

"So what were you going to do with your _lovely _wedding merchandise?" Madison asked, a glint in her eyes. And John's relief lessened slightly.

"I think Mrs Hudson could use some new mugs," Sherlock suggested, grinning in amusement now the weight of marriage had been lifted from their shoulders. "And one can never have enough embroidered hand towels. Perhaps Lestrade could-"

"Sherlock!" John cut him off firmly and they mocked glared at each other for some time. "I think we should destroy it."

"Destroy all these lovely memories?" Madison exclaimed, affronted. John rolled his eyes at her.

"Come on, John," Sherlock said. "We'll take everything back to Baker Street and we'll decide then."

John looked at him slightly warily, but gave a nod anyway. He then turned to face Madison. "It was nice to see you again, Mads. But, well... we'd better be off."

"It was nice to see you again too, John," she smiled and they shared a brief hug. "Now, you look after my John, Mister," she said to Sherlock, who stiffened slightly.

"I think it's more the other way around," he admitted, matter-of-factly. John blinked in surprise. Then, before the doctor could say anything, Sherlock tucked two boxes under his arms and left the room. Shaking his head slightly, John turned and thanked both Madison and David again. He then left with the remaining two boxes and with a promise he'd meet up with Madison for coffee one day, just for old times sake.

John re-entered Greek Street, which was busier now it was later, and caught up with Sherlock who was waiting at the curb. The boxes of John/Sherlock Wedding paraphernalia sat at his feet.

"Home?" John asked and Sherlock simply nodded in reply. John put the boxes down (rather roughly and with little care) on the curb as they waiting for a cab to hail.

"So, I guess we don't need these rings anymore..." John said after a brief silence and he pulled the gold band from his pocket. Sherlock mimicked his action and they stood together, their eyes fixed on their wedding rings.

Despite everything, John felt a strong attachment to the ring. In the back of his mind, he saw himself as Gollum, stroking the ring and calling it his 'precious'. He pushed the image back. The idea itself was completely ridiculous, especially after everything he'd been through to get rid of it. And yet he felt it was his. He had no idea where it came from, or how much it was worth, but it didn't seem to matter because it was his ring.

Similarly deep in thought, Sherlock twirled his ring over in his long fingers. He felt a stab of loss at the thought of throwing the ring out. Frowning, he tried to find the reason behind the loss. It was just a ring. A stupid, cheap wedding band that had caused so much panic in both of them (not that Sherlock would admit it out loud). So why did he feel so attached to it? Was he getting... sentimental over this?

"They do have sentimental value, though," John murmured as though reading Sherlock's mind. "A reminder of the completely nightmare we've been through, I mean..." he gave a weak chuckle. Beside him, the taller man could instantly tell by his tone that John didn't want to throw the rings out.

"It would be convenient to have a wedding ring available," Sherlock said and with a smile at John's frown he continued, "The art of disguise is knowing how to hide in plain sight."

John sighed, but then grinned (the idea of Sherlock posing as a married man was somewhat amusing). Then, with surprising skill, Sherlock flipped his ring up, caught it and smoothly tucked it into his breast pocket. Still smiling, John pocketed his own.

The rings would be their one personal reminder of the bizarre night out they had together. And, somehow, that idea was comforting.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock and it's characters does not belong to me.

_And we're back at Scotland Yard for the majority of this chapter again. :) I have made Anderson rather harsh in this, too. But I never really liked him as a character, so I hope that's all ok. :) I am still immensely enjoying writing this - especially when it comes to embarrassing John. :P So I hope you enjoy this chapter. I would have updated this yesterday, but it was my birthday and I kind of got distracted. :) Reviews are love. **  
**_

* * *

_**FOURTEEN - in which Lestrade is amused... again**_

A black cab pulled up just as Sherlock's phone rang.

"Yes?" He answered swiftly and John could tell by Sherlock's tone that he was probably speaking to either Mycroft of Lestrade. With a nod of his head, Sherlock indicated John start packing the boxes into the cab.

"Where to, lads?" The cabbie asked, helping John with the boxes and thankfully not asking what they contained.

"221B Baker Street," John said. "Thank you."

"Change of plans," Sherlock said, pulling the phone from his ear. "Scotland Yard."

"Lestrade?" John asked and Sherlock nodded. "What did he want?"

"He says he's got something we should see." The two of them slid into the cab and it pull away from the curb.

"Last night?"

"Perhaps. He didn't elaborate," Sherlock said and a hint of annoyance graced his voice.

~ *XX* ~

For the second time that day, John and Sherlock found themselves outside Scotland Yard.

"Oi mate," the cab driver stopped them as they turned to leave after paying him.

"What?"

"You can't leave all them boxes in the boot."

John pursed his lips as though he had been hoping the cabbie would forget. "Any chance you could leave them there and wait for us?"

"How long you gonna be?" the cabbie frowned. "It's nearly four and I gotta get home to my family. I've been driving all day, mate."

Sherlock scowled impatiently, clearly not wanting to linger here long and get up to Lestrade already. "Fine. John," he turned to the doctor. "Help me get these boxes."

"If Lestrade sees-" John joined him at the boot.

"He won't."

"And Anderson? Donovan?"

"I'll tell them the boxes are filled with human body parts for an experiment," Sherlock smiled. "They won't come anywhere near them."

John smiled. "Of course."

Laden with boxes the two made their way into the building and up to Lestrade's office. Sherlock led the way, once again and thankfully they didn't run into either Anderson or Donovan.

"What have you got?" Sherlock walked into Lestrade's office, without knocking. At least this time, he could blame it on the two boxes in his arms. Slowly he lowered them to the ground and behind him, John repeated the action.

"Is this about last night?" John added in question.

"What's in the boxes?"Lestrade frowned.

"Nothing," John said quickly.

"Really. It's nothing," Sherlock added as Lestrade opened his mouth again. "So is this about last night?"

Lestrade nodded and tore his gaze from the boxes. "After you two went off to... wherever... I went over the CCTV footage from Greek Street. See if I could -"

"How do you know we were at Greek Street?" Sherlock cut in.

"Donovan," Lestrade sighed. "She told me what she overheard."

Sherlock and John shared a look, but said nothing, deciding on nodding in acceptance. "Did you find anything from the CCTV then?"

For the first time since they'd entered the room, Lestrade grinned. "Oh yeah. I found something."

"Oh God..." John breathed, the feeling of apprehension returned to him once again.

"Play it," Sherlock ordered and they three gathered around the small screen for the second time that day.

The street was pulsing with throngs of people. People lined up, waiting to get into Club 49. A few seconds passed and the figures of John and Sherlock could be seen leaving the premises. They were both leaning heavily on the other (Sherlock's height, nearly causing John to collapse).

As with the previous footage, the audio of the pair was quite clear. Whether that was something Lestrade had worked on, or whether that was how CCTV footage worked, John didn't know.

"_Hee! You're drunk... Sherly," John said before dissolving into giggles._

"_Like you can talk," Sherlock replied, the words disjointed as he hiccupped. _

"_You know... You known... I love you," John said after a moment and he leaned into Sherlock more, as though trying to hide his laughter._

_Sherlock stopped abruptly and John stumbled around him, nearly falling over. "No one's ever told me that before," he said, suddenly sounding more sober._

"_I do, though, Sherlock... I really really really wu... luv... love you," he finished clumsily, looking up at his taller friend._

"_I lo-_"

"_Marry me, Sherlock!" John shouted and several bystanders turned to look at him. John knelt to the ground, his hands still grasping Sherlock's trousers for support. "Marry me?"_

_There were several cheers for nearby people and Sherlock looked around, before turning to John again. "Yes," he said simply, then let out a strangled giggled that was most unlike him. The cheering grew louder as John struggled to his feet again and embraced Sherlock. The taller man placed a sloppy kiss on John's cheek and the doctor responded by turning and pressing his lips to Sherlock's. _

_The clapping and cheering became louder again..._

Lestrade stopped the footage, leaving it paused on John and Sherlock embraced. The detective let out a laugh, which he had clearly been holding in for the past minute. John had, typically, turned bright red again while Sherlock remained still, his face unreadable.

"Looks like there are some things Rohypnol can't erase. Like CCTV footage for example," a familiar sniggering voice said from behind them and they all turned to face Anderson. He had been watching from the doorway. Sherlock's eyes narrowed in sudden, deep concentration, but he said nothing.

John looked as though he was about to punch the young forensic specialist, but Sherlock's hand on his shoulder held him back.

"Anderson!" Lestrade barked at him. Anderson's grin widened as though this was the exact reaction he wanted.

"I'm going," he said with a wave of his hands, before retreating.

It was then that Sherlock's eyes widened in realisation. He stalked after Anderson, ignoring the protests and warnings that both Lestrade and John gave him. It had just clicked; he'd worked it out.

Catching Anderson, he leaned over and growled in his ear. "With me. Now."


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock still isn't mine. I'm just borrowing the characters.

_Ok, so I really don't like Anderson that much... as you'll probably be able to tell in this chapter. Hope that's ok, don't hate me too much and hope you all enjoy still (despite the OOCness). And I do apologise for not updating sooner. The flooding we've had here has cut our internet access. We've only got it back up in the last 24 hours. _

_Reviews are love. _

* * *

_**FIFTEEN - in which Anderson finally gets what's coming to him**_

Anderson looked shocked and was about to make some scathing retort but Sherlock's frosty glare silenced him and the pair made their way into an empty office. As the door shut behind them, Sherlock shoved Anderson up against the wall, a fierce look in his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing, Freak!"

"I should have Lestrade fire you," Sherlock said, his voice low and dangerous.

"What are you on about?"

"You thought you'd get away with it, didn't you."

"Get away with _what? _Get off me!" Anderson struggled against Sherlock unsuccessfully.

"The Rohypnol, Anderson!"

"I... I don't know what you mean," Anderson said defiantly, but his reddening ears told a different story. Sherlock shoved him harder against the wall.

"So your pathetically low IQ needs me to explain it all to you," he spat, the anger coming up seemingly from nowhere. "Why am I even surprised?"

"Hey, now-"

"_You _spiked our drinks with Rohypnol."

"How do you even-?"

"Big mistake mentioning Rohypnol back then, Anderson. I should have guessed back when we viewed the footage from the zoo. You knew we were drugged because you were the one who drugged us. But no one ever mentioned Rohypnol in front of you. Lestrade certainly wouldn't have told you."

They stood glaring at each other for a minute. Sherlock could feel the anger pumping through his system, as he pinned Anderson against the wall. It was the angriest he'd ever felt. Someone had drugged him _and _John. Anderson had drugged them and discovering that had infuriated him more than anything.

Somewhere deep inside him, he felt a spark of confusion. He'd never been good at emotions and had certainly never felt this angry in a long time. Perhaps John was responsible for this change; Sherlock knew Mycroft would certainly agree with that conclusion.

But then Anderson slumped slightly. "Fine, you caught me," he said. "Tell Lestrade then. Get me fired. Enjoy your victory."

Sherlock continued to glare at him. "Just tell me why."

The other looked up at Sherlock, surprised. "Why?"

"It has to be something other than your pathetic desire for attention. And your need to prove me wrong."

"No," Anderson's lip curled in anger. "There's nothing else. Just you. It's always been you. You prance around here like you own the place. You wander into crime scenes, completely disregard anything I've ever done and just solve it. Lestrade thinks you're a fucking golden child."

"No he doesn't..." Sherlock murmured.

"No one ever gets any credit but you," Anderson continued as though he hadn't heard Sherlock. "So yes, I spiked your drinks. Thought it would be fair revenge. And hey, it worked. Look where it left you. It left you like a normal person for once. Going out, getting drunk and doing stupid things." He paused and the two locked eyes for a moment. "So go on then, tell Lestrade like the hero you are and get me fired."

It was Sherlock's turn to slump. Slowly he removed his hands from Anderson and stepped back, allowing him to brush himself off and massage his chest where Sherlock's hand had roughly pressed. "No."

"What?" Anderson's face crumpled in confusion.

"I'm not telling Lestrade."

"Why not?"

"Because that would be _your_ victory. To let everyone know you drugged Sherlock and outsmarted him... at least for a while anyway."

"What?"

Sherlock rounded on him again, his eyes hard and voice threatening again. "You're going to stay here and you're going to do your job. You're never going to touch me or John ever again. You're never going to make a single comment about anything."

"You're going to let me off on this?"

"No. I'm going to make your life hell." At least until John tells you to stop, he added in thought. Somehow, though, he suspected that wouldn't be for a while.

Anderson snarled in plain hatred at Sherlock. "You can't do this."

"I can and I will," Sherlock replied. "You _drugged _us. Out of revenge. That's not something one usually forgets."

"I certainly won't now," Anderson muttered, furiously. "Can I go now?"

Sherlock nodded curtly. "Don't forget, Anderson."

"Yeah..." Anderson trailed off. Heavy sarcasm dripped from his next sentence. "Oh and congrats on getting married to your doctor pal. Always knew he was more than just a "friend". You don't even have friends. You've never had friends, you gay little-"

Whatever Anderson was going to say was cut off as Sherlock's fist collided with his jawbone. Crying out in surprise, Anderson stumbled back. In obvious pain, he clasped a hand over his face where an ugly red bruise was already beginning to form.

"Did you not hear me, Anderson?" Sherlock said in calm fury. "Not a single comment about anything. Do you understand me now?" Anderson nodded dumbly. "Get out of here. If anyone asks, you tripped and hit the doorknob. The shape of the bruise will be roughly the same."

Anderson didn't need any further invitation and he scrambled from the room, leaving Sherlock alone. Breathing deeply, he ran a hand over his face in a motion that reminded him strongly of John. True, he'd worked out how the Rohypnol had entered their systems. But he didn't feel the usual elation at solving a case.

Yes, Anderson was pathetic. But wasn't Sherlock to blame too? At least partially? He sighed. The door to the room opened again just as he was beginning to doubt himself and his actions (something which rarely occurred in him).

"Sherlock?" It was John. "What happened?"

"Just having words with Anderson."

John raised an eyebrow. "I just saw him leaving. That bruise on his face?"

"He tripped and his face hit the doorknob," Sherlock replied instantly. The pair locked eyes. Sherlock blinked and John nodded in understanding.

"It was him, wasn't it?" John said. "He put the Rohypnol in our drinks." Sherlock nodded, then smiled, proud that John had cottoned on so quickly. The doctor shook his head in anger. "I'm going to kill him, that little-"

"John. He just... tripped and hit his face on the doorknob," Sherlock said.

John's anger faded. "Yes. Yes, of course he did."

They shared a smile. "Let's get out of here."

"Lestrade's going to have questions," John reminded him. "Once he stops laughing long enough to ask any..."

"Leave him wondering," Sherlock said. "We've worked out everything now. That's all that matters, right?"

John nodded and pulled out the notepad he had scribbled on earlier. "I've pretty much mapped out our night. No missing hours to account for."

"Excellent," Sherlock smiled. "Now we just have to-" His smile fell.

"What?"

"You left the boxes in Lestrade's office, didn't you?"

"Yes, why..?"

"You really think Lestrade would leave them alone in his current state?"

John's face fell and he swore.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock belongs to the BBC and to Mr. Moffat and Mr. Gatiss, not to me.

_Yes, you guessed it. I do indeed bring you some more embarrassed John and Sherlock. :P Bit of a warning also for the OOC-ness of Lestrade in this chapter. This is a total crack-fic and, I mean... how else would _you _react if you found a large box filled with John/Sherlock wedding souvenirs. But the warning still stands. Enjoy and please leave a review. :)_

* * *

_**SIXTEEN - in which Lestrade has never laughed harder and Mycroft reappears**_

Sherlock and John raced back around to Lestrade's office. They arrived just in time to see the detective pull a hand towel from the box. Embroidered on it was _John and Sherlock: Together Forever _in the same curled lettered that they knew was on the mugs.

Lestrade looked up at them, his face a mixture of great amusement and shock. "You actually got married?"

"Yes," Sherlock muttered after risking a look at John (the shorter man had already turned a delicate shade of pink in embarrassment). Lestrade burst out laughing, almost to the point where he was crying.

"Married?" He spluttered out. "You really got married? And you got," he paused to breath. "You got embroidered hand towels!"

"Yes," Sherlock repeated, feeling as though this was all he could really say. In contrary to his earlier teasing at the wedding chapel, he no longer felt amused at Lestrade seeing their wedding paraphernalia.

"What else did you get? Is that what's in the boxes? Oh, please tell me you got mugs," Lestrade said, barely audible amongst his inane giggling. "We need some new mugs in the tea room here."

He leaned over to open another box, but John's hand enclosed on his wrist stopping him. "No," he warned and Lestrade's laughter ceased for a moment.

"The mugs are for Mrs Hudson, our landlady," Sherlock said, improvising on the spot.

"You did get mugs!" Lestrade cried triumphantly.

"What?" John glanced up at him with wide eyes, removing his hand from Lestrade's wrist. "You're giving the..." Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes. Mrs Hudson's getting the mugs."

Lestrade choked out a laugh again. "We can have the hand towels then, right?"

"No. Definitely not," John told him and the detective inspection actually _pouted_. If John didn't know any better, he would have said Lestrade was bordering on tipsy. He definitely appeared to be under the influence of something. Unfortunately it was probably just the hilarity of finding the John/Sherlock wedding souvenirs.

The doctor glanced at the taller man beside him and Sherlock met his eyes steadily. In an unspoken conversation they both came to the conclusion that there was no way Lestrade was going to let them forget this. John inwardly groaned.

"Lestrade," Sherlock said warningly, quickly turning from John to grace the detective with a pointed look.

"What?" Lestrade replied, innocently.

"I saw that."

Lestrade sighed and pulled a hand towel out from where he had stuffed it in his coat pocket. "Can't hide anything from you, can I?" And Sherlock grinned at that. John, however, blinked in surprise - he hadn't seen Lestrade take anything.

Grudgingly Lestrade returned the hand towel to the box closest to him. "Anyway, so what was that about?" He asked Sherlock, nodding out the door at Anderson's empty desk.

"Just having words with Anderson," Sherlock said smoothly. Lestrade raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.

"Want me to speak with him?"

"No," John spoke for Sherlock.

"It's fine," Sherlock agreed and Lestrade gave a mere shrug before returning his gaze to the boxes. "No, Lestrade," Sherlock sighed, following his gaze.

"Did you get calendars, too?"

"How _do _you know about these things?" John said, incredulously.

"I'm a detective inspector at Scotland Yard," Lestrade answered simply and that was explanation enough.

John sighed, "of course," he muttered.

"So are you two..." Lestrade glanced between them with a grin. "... you know. Still married?"

"No!"

"We got an annulment," Sherlock added.

"Oh... Congratulations?" Lestrade said with uncertainty and John gave a weak chuckle as Sherlock forced a smile. "So, these boxes of stuff; what are you going to do with them?"

"Destroy them," John said without hesitation and Lestrade stifled another laugh.

"What and destroy all these wonderful memories," the detective was hardly able to keep a straight face. John rolled his eyes as Lestrade began to sound more and more like his ex, Madison back at the chapel.

"Why don't you just leave that to us," Sherlock said tersely. Lestrade nearly pouted again, but conceded.

"Fine," he said. Then he frowned slightly. "You sure we can't keep some of those hand towels, though?"

"Absolutely not."

"A calendar or two?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

The three descended into silence; Lestrade still trying not to laugh as John and Sherlock looked on in mild annoyance.

"So, you have everything figured out from last night then?" Lestrade asked, changing the topic much to the other's relief.

"Yes," Sherlock answered.

"Good to hear."

"And thank you for your help, also," John added.

"Oh, it was my pleasure," Lestrade grinned and John rolled his eyes.

"Of course it bloody was," he muttered, thankfully inaudible to Lestrade.

"I'll let you go then," Lestrade continued. "You've been through a lot and need rest. Hell, you're probably still hungover."

Sherlock nodded in definite agreement at that; he was clearly still feeling the effects from his first ever night out and resulting first ever hangover.

"Thank you," John said. Lestrade gave a jerk of his head which obviously translated as 'go on, get out of here'.

Sherlock gave a tight smile and he and John wasted no time in collecting up their boxes and left with a final farewell nod at Lestrade. The inspector smiled back - yes, there was definitely no way he was forgetting this.

~ *XX* ~

A large black car pulled up beside them as John and Sherlock waited for a cab outside Scotland Yard. John instantly recognised it and was about to warn Sherlock when the window rolled down.

"Hello brother dear," Mycroft said silkily.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock replied in annoyance.

"I see you've dealt with Mr. Anderson."

"How did you know about that?" John asked. "It's only just..."

"Ah, Grade Three Surveillance, my dear John."

"Oh."

"So you knew then? You knew he was the one that did this?" Sherlock shot at him. "You knew everything we did last night?"

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Mycroft smiled. "Much less fun on my part. Besides I know how much you love the legwork."

Sherlock responded by glaring fiercely at his brother, who did not seem the least bit fazed. "Come on, John," he turned to the doctor.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Sherlock," Mycroft cut in. "Catching a cab at this time will cost you a small fortune. And I hardly doubt John will be happy paying."

"What do you suggest then?" Sherlock humoured him, already knowing the answer.

Mycroft smiled again. "I shall give you a ride. Baker Street is not out of my way."

"It's never out of your way," Sherlock shot back.

Feeling he should step in, John cleared his throat. "Thank you, Mycroft. But I'm happy paying the cab fare. Besides I think Sherlock will be happier in a cab." Sherlock turned his glare to John, who shrugged.

Mycroft sighed. "Very well then. Goodnight to you both. And do try to stay out of trouble."

"Goodnight, Mycroft."

"Uh... night," John murmured.

The older Holmes brother looked them both up and down a final time, before his eyes landed on the boxes at their feet. His eyes narrowed then snapped back up to Sherlock. "Don't forget to send a hand towel or two to Mummy, Sherlock. You know she loves collecting them."

The window was wound up and Mycroft was gone a moment later before Sherlock or John could even formulate a reply.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock still does not belong to me.

_I'm actually really rather happy with this chapter. :) I hope you all enjoy it. Also - this story is drawing to a close. I have an epilogue to go and (if you guy would like to read it) the timeline of events for their night out. :) _

_Finally, since this is coming to the end and I'd like to have everything wrapped up - can you let me know if there are any unanswered questions left or if there is anything I may have missed out on answering. I have a feeling there may be some big plot points that I've forgotten. :S Anyway, that would be much appreciated. Thank you so much in advance. And reviews are still love. :P_

* * *

_**SEVENTEEN - in which John and Sherlock finally return to 221B Baker Street**_

John and Sherlock entered the hallway of 221B Baker Street with a shared sigh. Placing their boxes down, they turned and simultaneously leaned up against the wall, not unlike the way they had when they had just met.

"Oh you're back, dears," Mrs Hudson appeared from the back room behind the stairs.

"Indeed we are, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock gave her a fond smile and pull away from the wall to greet her. John mimicked his actions.

Mrs Hudson waved them off, her eyes landing on the boxes. "What are all these boxes, Sherlock? Are you experimenting again?" She frowned. "It's not body parts is it?"

Sherlock chuckled, "No, not this time Mrs Hudson."

"It's much worse than body parts," John said darkly.

"I'm sure it's not, doctor," Mrs Hudson said, implying that there was nothing worse than boxes filled with body parts arriving in the hallway. John raised a sceptical eyebrow, but said nothing.

"If you'll excuse us, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock began. "We are well overdue for a cup of tea."

"I'm your landlady, Sherlock," the older woman scolded. "Not your-"

"We know, Mrs Hudson," John interrupted kindly.

"And John is more than capable of making tea," Sherlock added, shooting a fond look at the doctor as he rolled his eyes.

"Very well then, boys," Mrs Hudson said. "And do take care." She shook her head slightly as if she knew exactly what foolishness the pair had been up to.

Sherlock and John forced identical smiles before collecting up their boxes and making their way up the stairs.

"Oh and Sherlock, John dear," Mrs Hudson added before they disappeared completely. "Before I forget, that nice detective, Lestrade called." At her words, John stopped and visibly paled.

"What did he want?" Sherlock asked, also pausing on the staircase.

"He seemed to be under the impression you were giving me some mugs. Well, I don't know what that was about..." she trailed off, shaking her head.

John broke out in violent coughing and Sherlock thumped him on the back. "He what?" John managed a moment later.

"Mugs, I said," Mrs Hudson repeated. "He was rather put out by the idea of me getting these mugs, actually. Wanted to make a deal with me. The man offered to _pay _me."

Sherlock and John's eyes were both as wide as saucers. "Tell me you didn't agree!" said Sherlock.

"Well, of course not, Sherlock. I don't even know what he was talking about. Do you know about these mugs?"

"No," John replied instantly, casting a guilty look at the boxes. Mrs Hudson didn't miss it.

"Is that's what in the boxes? Mugs?"

"I am going to _kill _Lestrade," John muttered furiously.

Mrs Hudson didn't appear to have heard him. "Just letting you know. You might want to phone him back."

"Oh, I'll phone him back alright," John growled.

"John," Sherlock reprimanded lightly, then turned back to their landlady. "We will get onto that shortly, Mrs Hudson," he promised.

Mrs Hudson nodded. "Off you go then. I'll be down here if you need me."

She disappeared again and with a sigh John and Sherlock continued up the stairs and into the living room. Placing his boxes on the ground, John made straight for the kitchen, while Sherlock (typically) made straight for the sofa. Flopping down on it, the thin man closed his eyes.

"Just milk please John," he said aloud.

And in the kitchen, John smiled. This was what he was used to and he didn't even mind it one bit. After everything they'd been through in the past 24 hours, this was normal. At least as normal as it could be living with Sherlock. Either way, John was happy. He could use a bit of normal right now.

But it wasn't quite normal just yet...

John returned from the kitchen and handed a mug to Sherlock. Then he settled himself in his own chair, shifting the Union Flag pillow onto his lap. They fell into their usual companionable silence. But there was still something nagging at the back of both their minds.

"Sherlock," John spoke first and there was a tone in his voice which suggested he was about to say something important. "About... about last night..."

"Mmm?" Sherlock looked up, regarding John over the top of his mug.

John blushed slightly. "When I... erm, proposed," he mumbled, looking down.

"Oh, um yes," Sherlock said, somewhat awkwardly. "I was meaning to-"

"I didn't mean it," John said hurriedly. "It was just the Rohypnol and the alcohol talking. I never would have done that... you know..."

"Yes, I know," Sherlock replied, frowning in confusion.

"That's ok, right?"

"Of course," Sherlock said. "I understand."

John frowned at Sherlock. There was definitely something up. "Then what-"

"You said you... you said you loved me," Sherlock muttered, sounding more confused than ever.

"Oh..." John's face crumpled and he instantly remembered the footage they'd seen and what had been said.

_"I love you."_

"_No one's ever told me that before."_

John swallowed roughly. He'd told Sherlock that he loved him. He'd been the first person to tell the young, odd, brilliant man that he was loved.

John's heart went out to Sherlock. Here he had been thinking that Sherlock was regretting their annulment, but he was just confused. The poor guy had never been told that he was loved. John ran a hand through his hair. This had been the last thing on his mind, while it was all Sherlock had been thinking about.

Sherlock watched John closely. The doctor appeared to be just as confused. Sherlock couldn't understand why was affecting him so. He'd known a long time that those words had been a term of strong endearment. But never had he considered they'd be directed at him. Mummy and Mycroft never used it and his father had never been around. And he'd never been close to anyone else. Until now, it seemed.

John coughed to break the silence. "Well, for what it's... uh, worth. I do, you know. As a friend that is..." he trailed off but looked up to meet Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock blinked in momentary surprise. John loved him? He'd meant what he said then? "I..." Sherlock was suddenly lost for words. For so long he'd been alone and now it seemed he'd finally found a friend who accepted him and _loved _him for who he was.

A strange look of acceptance crossed Sherlock's usually impassive face. "I do too, John."

The doctor nodded as though satisfied, but Sherlock could see the surprise that flashed in his eyes. John hadn't expected him to say that back. But then he smiled and Sherlock genuinely returned it as the heavy, awkward atmosphere lifted.

For the first time in a while, everything was sorted out and everything was finally content and normal.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock still does not belong to me.

_Ok, so I'm not a big Sarah/John fan. Not at all, in-fact. That said, I've still decided to include her in this chapter for the comic twist. Thanks must go out to _LittlemissStarshine _whose idea it was to include Sarah finding their wedding stuff. Hope you enjoy! :)_

_Also - I recently wrote a very M-rated Sherlock one-shot, which I was going to upload to make up for the lack of slash in this fic (since, I know there were a lot of you who wanted John and Sherlock to get together). Would you guys be interested in reading it, if I uploaded it? It's my first M-rated piece in a very long time, so I'm a bit worried about it. :S _

_Anyways - that's enough from me. Please enjoy this short epilogue/chapter and I will be back soon with the Timeline. :) Reviews are love._

* * *

_**EIGHTEEN - in which two months have passed and everything seems back to normal**_

Two months had passed since that infamous night out and John and Sherlock's quest to find out what had happened.

And life had continued as normal... as normal as possible, that is.

True to John and Sherlock's suspicions, Lestrade never let them forget. They still worked crime scenes together, but the number of comments and cheesy puns Lestrade made was actually reaching rather impressive levels. Anderson, however, seemed to be honouring Sherlock's threats and continued to act as if nothing had happened (the bruise on his cheek had only begun to fade after a week and a half!).

Besides Lestrade's comments, the escapades of that night were not something that was discussed often. John and Sherlock still both kept their rings. Occasionally John would catch Sherlock wearing his or twirling it in his long fingers, deep in thought, but he never said anything. John himself kept his in the drawer on his bedside table.

And as for the remainder of their wedding souvenirs, well, they never quite got around to being destroyed, despite what John and Sherlock told everyone. John stored two of the boxes under his bed and Sherlock had done the same.

It wasn't until two months later that the souvenirs came back to haunt them.

"Going out with Sarah tonight?" Sherlock asked from the couch. His eyes did not leave the TV screen, but he could sense John getting ready around him. Since their conversation in which they both admitted they loved the other, John and Sherlock had become even closer friends. And, in Sherlock's case, he became much more comfortable around John and often let his walls down to show his true feelings and emotions. "Well? Are you?"

"Oh, yeah," John replied and he turned to look at the screen. "Are you still watching that?"

"I have the boxset, John," Sherlock said, as though it were obvious. "Besides, as far as procedural medical shows go, this 'House' is rather good. His character shares much of my intellect."

John muttered something, which sounded like a sarcastic 'of course he does'. His comment was inaudible to Sherlock, however. The taller man nudged the remote with one bare foot and the TV paused. He turned to look up at John. "When does she get here?"

"What? So you can go and hide when she arrives?"

"She doesn't like me."

John thought back to his first 'date' with Sarah. "Yeah, I can't see why," he said sarcastically. "Anyway, she's already here, upstairs getting ready in my room. We came straight from work."

Sherlock huffed.

"Feeling left out?"

"No," was the short reply, clearly a lie.

John chuckled slightly. "We'll sit down and watch 'House' together tomorrow night, deal?"

"Really?" Sherlock's face lit up, like a child on their birthday.

John returned the grin. "Yeah Sherlock, really." The detective's grin widened and John had to stop himself from laughing.

"I hope -"

"John?" Sarah's questioning shout sounded form outside and John and Sherlock broke off their conversation. "John!" Sarah appeared in the doorway, one hand on her hip and the other holding a mug.

It was a mug that both Sherlock and John instantly recognised. They shared a guilty look.

"What is this, John?"

"Uh..."

"Is there something going on here that I should know about?" Sarah looked between the two of them, not bothering to hide her anger.

"Sarah-"

"Is this what I think it is?"

"Probably," Sherlock muttered.

"Sherlock!" John scolded before stepping towards Sarah with a soft look on his face. "Look, it was... ah... months ago, Sarah. And-"

"So this... this did happen?" Sarah looked between them with wide eyes.

"We got an annulment," Sherlock offered.

"A what?"

"It means a... divorce," John said.

"And is that meant to make me feel better?" Sarah demanded.

"We could still be married," Sherlock pointed out and John shot him a look which clearly said 'not helping!'

"Well?" Sarah continued, waving the mug slightly. "Clearly there is a story here. Are you going to explain it to me?"

John and Sherlock shared another look. The former suppressed a sigh, while the latter hid a smile. Explaining that night would definitely take a while.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **After all this, Sherlock still does not belong to me. Neither does the movie, The Hangover.

_And here it is, my dear readers. The final chapter of this story. Not much explanation needed - this is simply the timeline of the events of John and Sherlock's night out. Just to put it all into perspective and tie everything up. Times are from what was seen on the CCTV footage, everything was included around that. _

_Finally - this short epilogue goes out and is dedicated to all my faithful reviewers. Thank you so much for the continued support. It has been most appreciated. To everyone who favourited and alerted this story, but didn't leave a review - now's your chance! I'd love to hear what you thought of this. :) _

_Thanks again and enjoy! _

* * *

_**EPILOGUE aka the Timeline - in which the exact order of events are shown**_

7:00 - 10:15 PM - John and Sherlock are at the local pub with Lestrade and the others from Scotland Yard. Sherlock drinks only water, John has a few pints. Anderson slips the Rohypnol into their drinks.

10:15 PM - They leave the local pub. Go to catch cab home, go to Greek Street instead (as you do!)

10:15 PM - 1:30 AM - Partying/drinking at Greet Street, mainly Club 49. John proposes and Sherlock says yes. John also declares his love for Sherlock.

1:30 AM - Leave Greek Street. Have plans to go to the hospital to get pre-wedding health checkups, but get distracted and catch cab to London Zoo.

1:53 - 2:20 AM - At London Zoo, break into lion's cage and kidnap lion for experimental purposes.

2:20 - 2:45 AM - Take lion back to 221B Baker Street, across Regent Park. Mrs Hudson hears them bringing the lion back and mistakes the noises for sounds of "involvement". Lion is locked in John's bathroom (Where else would you put it?)

2:45 - 3:00 AM - Leave Baker Street, go to University College Hospital A&E.

3:02 - 4:00 AM - At Hospital A&E get checkups with a very nice nurse - Jacinta Maitland.

4:00 AM - Leave hospital (Sherlock vomits in pot plant before leaving). Catch cab back to Greek Street to get married.

4:15 - 5:45 AM - Marriage ceremony takes place (and there was much rejoicing). Orders for souvenirs/paraphernalia are placed.

5:45 - 6:05 AM - Take cab back to Baker Street.

6:05 AM - John (not fully aware that the sun has risen) crawls around kitchen looking for a suitable mixer for his gin. Can only find chocolate milk. He gives up when Sherlock suggest they go to bed.

6:15 AM - John and Sherlock fall asleep in Sherlock's bed.

10:40 AM - John and Sherlock wake up. Sherlock is naked, John is embarrassed and neither can remember anything.

And so begins their quest to find out exact what happened...

_The end. _


End file.
